


Petya Vorkosigan: Odds & Ends

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Series: Petya 'verse - All Petya Vorkosigan Fics [39]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Meta, Rough drafts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-30 14:54:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 44,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6428773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wasteland of unfinished Petya Vorkosigan fics. Here be unrevised dragons and a terribly naked look into my writing process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Intro

As threatened/promised to various people over the years, here is a dumping ground of unfinished/abandoned Petya fics. Once I finished Hold On, I felt like the series was completed, the main arc was done. (I will insist, kicking and screaming, that there are only about five fics in this series that are the point of it, the rest were just digressions that went with my rule of if a flashback went on too long, it had to have its own fic.) ~~they only count if they have Petya and Guy being repressed at each other~~

This is not all of the fics (some were not worthy/too short/whatever) and I've tried to leave notes for what I remember was going to happen next.

Pay no attention to the dates on the chapters, which are mostly just for backdating purposes. Dates are frequently file create date, or last edit date, except when they're not. So, uh, tl; dr: *waves hand in front of your face* this is not the archival data integrity you are looking for. (considering how specific I am about dates on fics, let's be honest, it's not the quality _I'm_ looking for)

General warning as to writing quality: these are, for the most part, unfinished rough first drafts. Some of these are so cringeworthy that I didn't read them over more than a brief skim. Caveat lector. ;)


	2. Petya's first time home since the war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IIRC, I wrote this one night in one of those "I wrote this instead of sleeping" bouts and then had problems revising/continuing in the morning. I wanted to do something about young!Miles, about all the deaths and funerals, all that. Petya left home and missed basically all the rebuilding, so this was going to deal with that. Also the Vorrutyer stuff. Always and forever, the Vorrutyer stuff.

Title: Home.  
Summary: Petya comes home for the first time since he left.

 

Petya's first home leave is a [cloud mesh maze barrage] of graveyards.

Coming home itself was strange. He hadn't really believed he'd be allowed to take his mandatory home leave actually at home until they had left Komarr, and even then, nervously reading through the latest letters from the Count, from Alys, from his father, he'd been nearly convinced he would be turned away at the last jump point.

But he wasn't and now he's here and he has a mandatory year at home, the first half on leave and the second half putting in time in training and bureaucracy. 

There are easily three times as many guards on Vorkosigan House as there used to be, and Gregor's going to be tall when he finishes growing, and Ivan looks enough like Padma that Petya's heart breaks to see him, and Miles isn't as fragile as Petya had been worried he would be. Lady Vorkosigan, Cordelia, had sat him down and told him how to pick Miles up without hurting him, and it had worked, and Petya had managed to look past how-- how _fragile_ Miles is. 

Fragile's the word, he thinks, say fragile. Don't say anything else, ever, because it's not Miles's fault, it's Evon's.

Miles has the makings of being the most annoying little brother Petya could ever have hoped for, and that's a relief, and Miles tries to climb on him like Petya's a favorite pony, and then Ivan pipes up that he wants a turn, and it's Evon's fault that Miles is like this, and it's Vordarian's fault that Padma isn't here to watch this, and if Petya ever cries about both of those tragic little boys, well, that's nothing anything they need to know about.

Gran'da is looking much less murderous than he did the last time Petya saw him, which is a relief, and he's relented and let the Regent and his family come home again. But, Da and Cordelia warn Petya repeatedly, the Count is never allowed to be alone with Miles, ever.

Petya pretends not to notice that he's not allowed alone with Miles, either. But Armsman Bothari is being decent about it, and Petya can't bring himself to be insulted by it. He's the last person allowed to be upset by other people's paranoia, he thinks.

Six years away. Enough time away for tempers to cool, for people to begin to forget, and then to be jerked back by the reminders.

The first time it hits Petya over the head is when Timmy invites him to dinner, and he's brought around all of the old crowd, everyone on the required social visits list that Petya would have wanted see and not merely been obligated to, and so many faces are vividly [glaringly] missing. Six years gone and maybe it's because he wasn't here for the hard slog, for the rebuilding, for every year going by, for every visit to burn an offering, but it's an actual shock to see Timmy without Padma there. Timmy was always Padma's friend first and foremost. For years, the only reason he only put up with Petya was because Padma made him. Petya was a stupid little kid following Padma around everywhere, and Timmy hated it.

And now Timmy's inviting him to dinner and patting him on the shoulder and introducing him to his two new babies and offering to go with him to burn the offerings for Padma and Kareen in the morning.

Pierre attaches himself to Petya like Petya never left, and Grandfather Vorrutyer caught pneumonia over the winter, and even though he's over it now, it's just a matter of time, Pierre says. Petya's never had much affection for his Vorrutyer first cousins and doesn't get along with most of them, but they're the only first cousins he has, not counting the ones from Gran'da's bastards that he's not supposed to know about, and Pierre doesn't get along with most of them, too, which makes this all completely unbearable and also frequently surreal. Richars is pretending Pierre's an usurper and undermining him at every turn, Donna is divorcing her husband, Byerly is acting up at school and is close to being expelled and damn who his relatives are, and one night Petya finds himself at ImpMil sitting next to Pierre when they tell him he's the Count now.

The funeral is a state occasion because Grandfather was who he was, and when Petya comes back from making sure Pierre isn't really going to have the nervous breakdown he's threatening, he snaps [a little] too hard at Ivan sneaking through his things, and sits up all night, back to the wall, hating himself and trying not to run to the garage, take his lightflyer, and run off to the District to ride horses until everyone around him stops dying.

He does go into the District the next week. Cordelia has projects and she tells him about them and Petya nods in the right places and manages to make appropriate conversation. Arina and Cordelia apparently have bonded over hospital politics and from everything Cordelia says, she's made her peace with the Vorhalases.

Miles is with them, along with the usual complement of nurses and servants and guards, and Gran'da stays in the capital. There's an important vote and he can't miss it.

Cordelia has, Petya muses, become very good at strategic scheduling.

Petya spends the daylight hours watching Miles ride his pony and worrying as Miles tries harder and harder tricks, showing off. "You're very good at that," Petya tells him, proud. "A proper Vor," he adds, and Miles beams at him.

They retire early and when, at dawn, Petya starts down the stairs to head out to the graveyard, Cordelia puts her hand on his and asks if she can join him.

Petya nods, saying nothing, suddenly choked up. He swallows it back and tries to smile and offer her his arm. Cordelia gives him a motherly look and smiles reassuringly.

Petya has no idea what he says as they walk out to the graveyard. It's nothing, really, just nervousness, and no Barrayaran woman would ever do this, it would be sending the wrong message entirely. You can't mock your father's second wife with what had happened to his first. You can't drag her out to another woman's grave, an object lesson to warn her about what could happen. You just can't. But Cordelia is, and it's her idea, Petya tells the little voice telling him that this sort of thing is just not done.

Petya kneels down to set up the tripod and puts everything in the bowl carefully. He'd prepared it before, he wasn't going to take any chance of not finding enough hair to cut, or his hand slipping and not being able to-- of not doing this properly. His mother deserves that much, at least. She deserves everything to be proper.

He lights the offering and watches it burn.

When it's all ash, he turns it over and spreads it out over his grave with his foot, the way he used to when he was a kid and he thought it would help. Cordelia wordlessly offers him a handkerchief.

"Thank you," he says. He doesn't mean the handkerchief.

"Is it always the same way?" Cordelia asks softly.

Petya nods. "The first morning, if I've spent the night." But she must've known that, if she'd been waiting for him. "I-- I don't burn anything special. Different. I did once burn my genetic scan," he admits. "I guess I'd wanted her to know. That I knew. That I knew what I was and I knew she wasn't-- but nothing else different, not recently." 

Cordelia waits with him companionably and they watch the sun finish rising together 

He goes to Padma's grave with Timmy and then with Alys and then with Ivan holding his hand tight and whispering to him about all the times he's gone with his Ma. He goes to Kareen's grave and feels the weight of the collective gaze of the ImpSec guards and he doesn't stay long each time, just long enough. _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

He passes the new Count Vordarian one day in the Imperial Cemetery and Julian pales and rushes away. Julian has been, Alys tells Petya later, a complete ghost as the Count. Alys isn't happy about it, she makes it clear, because once upon a time, he had been Padma's trusted lieutenant and Padma had liked him, and so Padma would have been horrified. Julian's two generations removed from Vidal and looks nothing like him and he will never have the kind of influence his cousin had. Any chance he'd had of a brilliant political career has been crushed before it could ever begin, but his District is rich enough that it doesn't matter.

"He might be a good match for Donna," Alys suggests and Petya shrugs. 

"The Vorrutyers need less scandal, not more," Petya says, "but I can pass the idea along and see if Donna's interested."

Donna's not interested; her divorce from Lord Voraiken is messy and public and includes enough slander that half of the time someone is trying to get details out of Petya, they want to know if Donna really did get herself a Betan implant. They're all, Petya quickly realizes, rather hazy on the _details_ of what a Betan implant actually does. Countess Vorkalloner seems to think it's an acquired genetic disorder, while Samuel Vorhovis is telling everyone that it's a machine to turn Donna into a Betan hermaphrodite.

"It's contraception, stupid," Donna eventually shouts in a ballroom full of people at Vorgustafson House, which gets her shunned by one half of Vorbarr Sultana society and makes her a hero to the other half.

"If she were only a little more discreet," Alys sighs wistfully and changes the subject whenever it's mentioned.

A month before he leaves for New Tertius, his father joins him at dawn by Negri's grave, and Petya admits,


	3. Unposted dark AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely wrote this one instead of sleeping. Basically, everyone is dead and everything is terrible. The things I do to Gregor. I'm so sorry, Gregor.

Title:  
Summary: The victory is complete. [gone well]. And then Petya Vorkosigan steals the Crown Prince.

 

Gregor Vorbarra is eight years old and is not afraid of the dark. When Petya slips into the prince's rooms in Residence, feeling too much like a character in one of those vid dramas as he performs his duty, Gregor just looks at him and doesn't even flinch at the horror before him.

"Count Vorkosigan?" he asks[ his main bodyguard]. "What's going on?"

"We're going to be going on an adventure," Petya tells him. He offers Gregor his hand. "Do you remember the stories your mother would tell you about princes who would hide in the woods to stay away from the evil mutants?"

Gregor nods.

"The mutants are on our heels," Petya tells him grimly. "We have to leave. Now."

\----

It takes an hour for Gregor to be missed. The Prince's nurse, Petya's most important collaborator, is executed two days later.

Serg sends out every loyal armed man he has to search for his son, and then the bombs in Vorbarr Sultana trigger, and the capital cities/Counts of four districts all declare independence from the crown.

\-----

Aral Vorkosigan died for war crimes following the successful conquest of Komarr, but before his death, he had told Petya about the hidden places in the mountains where Aral and Padma had hidden during the worst days of Yuri's war. He'd sworn on his life that Ezar would never have told Serg about them.

Petya and Gregor spend a month in them and then move on. 

\-----

Negri had recruited him before his application to the Academy could even be officially denied for being the son of a war criminal. Negri had said: _there will come a time when we need loyal monsters. I can imagine no better-connected monster than what I could make you_.

On Negri's orders, Petya had been drafted directly into ImpSec. On Negri's orders, Petya had courted Ges Vorrutyer's favor. On Negri's orders, Petya had submitted to, and passed, every loyalty test Serg could think to throw to him.

For his pain, he was assigned to the Crown Prince's protection following Ezar's death, and then Negri's clock began to count down.

Gregor turns nine years old in Vorpatril's District, where Padma and Alys have a small house and three children, and Gregor fits in well enough with Ivan and Sonia and Nodari, while Petya conferences with their parents and Negri and Negri's protege, Simon Illyan.

Negri says, "Serg is on the breaking point."

There is only so much longer that this can keep going. Padma reports about mutinies that have been covered up by Service Security and Alys reports about the undercurrents in society gatherings. The name Yuri the Second, she says, is everywhere.

Illyan is introduced to the Crown Prince as the new head of his security and Gregor asks him if he's going to try to kill him, too, like Grishnov tried the night Petya took him away, with blood still all over his clothes from where Petya had stuck the would-be assassin's head from his shoulders with a sword.

"I am here to help Count Vorkosigan, sire," Illyan tells the Crown Prince. "I will be responsible for your security while he will be response for _you_."

\----

Petya's grandfather had killed himself the day after his old military apprentice had died.

At least, that was the official story. Ges Vorrutyer has strange ideas of favors.

\-----

Negri brings down the Ministry of Political Education right on schedule and Petya doesn't allow Gregor to return to the city until all the fires are out, until he deems it safe, until he has seen Serg's body.

Gregor is twelve when he ascends to the throne.


	4. Shards re-write

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Petya exists, That Talk during Shards would have had to go a little differently. I-- well, I have one line of it. But, you know, it was something that I considered, how Aral explained the whole situation to her. So, um, *gestures vaguely* imagine a long conversation... that I didn't write.

_"I never really looked at it that way," allowed Vorkosigan. He was quiet for a time, stumping along with his stick. "Suppose they volunteered? Do your people have no ideal of service?"_

_"Noblesse oblige?" But it was her turn to be silent, a little embarrassed. "I suppose, if they volunteered, it would be different. However, I have no children, so fortunately I won't have to face those decisions."_

_"Are you glad, or sorry?"_

_"About children?" She glanced at his face. He seemed to have no awareness of having hit a sore point dead on. "They just haven't come my way, I guess."_

 

Vorkosigan studied her for a long moment. "I have a son," he said eventually, breaking the silent. "Piotr, for my father. He's a cadet at our military academy back home now."


	5. Petya writes letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely forgot I wrote this, and had a giggle reading over it. I don't have notes on this, so I don't know if this was going to be featuring Petya and Guy's correspondence over the years. Probably?

Excerpts From The Correspondence Of Lord Piotr Vorkosigan Of Barrayar

 

Miles --

It's a good thing I don't have need-to-know on your recent escapades on Cetaganda. Otherwise, I suspect I would be honor-bound on behalf of the diplomatic community to throttle you.

Please let me know if you ever wear the Order of Merit publicly. I want to watch.

-Petya

P.S. As a possibly-necessary reminder: the point of covert ops is to not be noticed. Not be awarded the enemy's highest honor in front of eight planets.


	6. Cordelia after the war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tl;dr Cordelia is hard for me to write.
> 
> I really liked getting her outside view on things, and especially her outside view on Petya's BSOD at the end of Lord Piotr. And also finally pointing out that Petya knew that Cordelia has been a prisoner of war of the Barrayarans... and wore his military uniform to meet her. Great sensitivity there, Petya. Good job.

Title: Day In The Life  
Summary: A day in the life of Lady Cordelia Vorkosigan, Regent-Consort of Barrayar.

 

Even a war and a painful childbirth wouldn't slow down Alys Vorpatril for very long and as soon as the last of the formal mourning is over, she picks up with Cordelia's education into Barrayar and Vorishness with a steely-eyed determination and gritted teeth.

Cordelia appreciates Alys keeping up the charade that they can just pick back up where they left off, somewhere in the alphabetized who's who between Vorkalloner and Vorkosigan. It helps keep her mind off of the executions that Aral's ordered, much more public than that poor Vorhalas boy's beheading, and she understands now why General Piotr had sniffed that it was a barely acceptable mercy.

This really is an appalling planet.

 

"Ezar's will gave custody of Gregor to Kareen outright," Alys says. "And after Kareen, the question was to be thrown to the Counts and Ministers assembled, which is what's going on now."

 

"Padma's custody went to Xav, officially, and went to Princess Jacqueline after Xav died."

 

"No, I'm fine," Alys says tightly. Then she says, "my family is quite wealthy, and Padma was paranoid. I'm one of his heirs out right and not just with an allowance to take care of Ivan and his inheritance, although there is that, too."

 

"What did he have against his lreatives?"

Nothing. But Padma was aware of the dynastic implications.

 

Lord Vorinnis has been sending Aral very pointed letters about Barrayaran legal tradition and Aral has been getting more and more tightlipped.

When Lord and Lady Vorinnis come to visit, Gregor runs up to hug them, and then Lady Vorinnis takes him off to play.

"What makes you think you know anything about raising a son?" Lord Vorinnis demands of Aral, not quiet enough.

"I'll learn," Aral says, clipped. "I'm going to have another one of my own soon. Would you try to take him, too?"

"You're barely fit to raise a house plant," Vorinnis says. "And all of Vorbarr Sultana knows you're completely unfit to raise a boy. And Lord Padma isn't around anymore to pick up after you."

Aral flinches at the name, but Vorinnis did, too, when he spoke it. "I learn from my mistakes."

"Then I'm sure you'll be a wonderful father this time," Vorinnis says, disgusted. "You may hold my oath, my lord Regent, but I am demanding yours in this matter. Swear to me you learned from your mistakes with Petya and you will never abandon Gregor to meet the enemy on his own, or I swear on my honor, I will oppose your suit to become his guardian."

 

 

She walks into the replicator

Petya's sitting forlornly between it and the wall, resting his head against the surface. For a moment, Cordelia's heart is in her throat because Petya's so close to the controls, but the replicator is still humming happily, and Petya, for all that Piotr had apparently gotten him in whatever custody [negotiations/wc] he'd finally negotiated out with Aral, is muttering under his breath. Cordelia catches the words _Miles_ and _please_ and walks further into the room.

She knows the exact moment Petya realizes he isn't alone in the room anymore when he jerks to his feet, swaying slightly back and forth.

"Milady," he says. He sounds absolutely terrible and he's dressed in civilian clothes and if Cordelia didn't know him, she might have thought him any other Vor and not her step-son at all. Petya, after all, was the boy who had thought it completely appropriate to greet a woman he knew had been a prisoner of war while wearing his dress uniform and looking exactly like the poster child for Barrayaran militarism.

"Cordelia," she corrects him.

He tries for a smile and fails completely. His gaze drops down to the replicator and he touches the top of it with reverent fingers.

"Here, look at the read outs," Cordelia says, and moves to stand next to him. She brings up the vital signs and points it out to Petya. "There, that's his heart beat. That

 

"These are common on Beta?" Petya asks. "Not just for sick babies?"

"Of course not," Cordelia says. "Almost everyone uses them. Some chose the old fashioned way, but most don't."

"That's an option? Not-- not...," Petya looks down at the floor again and then back up. "Why would anyone want to do... why didn't you use it, milady?"

"It wasn't an option unless I waited and I was caught up in the romance," Cordelia says, and after a long moment, Petya seems to realize what he'd just asked and he blushes and returns to staring at the floor, stammering out an apology.


	7. Vortala and Allegre over the years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to be an exploration of why Vortala ships them (answer: it makes his job easier).
> 
> This is something of a sentimental favorite and is one I wish I'd finished.

Title: In From The Cold  
Summary: Alexei Vortala and Guy Allegre have an excellent working relationship. Don't let Allegre tell you otherwise.

 

1\. 

And, somehow, probably because everyone in ImpSec actually is a spy and if everyone in the Diplomatic Corps isn't, Guy's been hearing the wrong gossip, too many people have decided that Guy is Piotr Vorkosigan's pet.

"Take that epithet," advises Alexei Vortala, one of the Domestic Affairs officers that Guy's supposed to be aiding in a Domestic Affairs sting on Service Security Komarr. "If Piotr were the slightest bit more like his Vorrutyer relatives, they'd be calling you his creature."

So much for this never leaving security-classified files. But, Vortala says without saying, people think Piotr's using him for his own purposes, just like his father and his grandfather have been using and molding proles for years. It's not gotten out ( _yet_ ) that they seem to find themselves having sex whenever they're in the same place.

"Piotr speaks very highly of you," Vortala says. "Without real, actual details, because it's him. And I'm not asking anything about that, okay? Piotr'd cut my balls off if I tried. Or tell my uncle on me and have him do it instead."

"Your uncle's the Prime Minister, isn't he?" Guy asks with utter certainty and a certain amount of futility [inevitability , dread wc].

"Afraid so," Vortala says. "Sorry. But Captain Illyan finds it useful to have a few of us around. High placed Vor lords in Domestic Affairs. Negri's idea, actually. He wanted to get his claws in as many High Vor as possible, getting us working for him. He even got a few Count's Heirs that way."

 

 

"Anyway, I approve of Piotr being completely scandalous," Vortala says cheerfully. "You're a much better choice than some of the things he could think about doing. And I mean that in a completely Vor patronage system way," Vortala adds after a moment's thought.

Guy grimaces.

"It's okay, we're family," Vortala says. "Well, related through the Vorinnises, and who isn't? But... anyway, it's all complicated, but the point is: relax. When I think about the kind of things Piotr's gotten up to and with who, trust me, we'd all much prefer some steady/steadying influences on his life. Certain people were indiscreet, risk-taking idiots."

"And indiscretion is obviously not one of your faults," Guy grumbles.

"You're just friends, aren't you?" Vortala asks innocently. Then he ruins it by smiling a little wider, approaching sinister. "Trust me, this is nothing [compared to the capital.] You should hear my relatives."

 

By the end of that investigation, which drags on for what seems like years, Guy has started to consider Alexei Vortala to be a really annoying younger brother he never had. Who just happens to be Vor.

Vortala's really persistent. Guy tries to swat him away and Vortala keeps coming back.

If this is what Vor babas are like, no wonder the Vor always talk of them in hushed tones. 

 

[  
When Guy mentions that Vortala sends his love in his next letter to Petya, Petya trips over his tongue in trying to apologize. But the damage's been done; Vortala is _insufferable_. And completely indiscreet.

Petya laughs at that.  
]

 

2\. 

 

Alexei Vortala first met Guy Allegre on Komarr, which is only sensible, because Guy Allegre has been known in ImpSec for years as the man who won't leave Komarr. 

General Diamant of Komarran Affairs threw a headquarters job at him, which Allegre politely declined, which should have been career suicide, except that Guy Allegre apparently never wanted to leave Komarr anyway, so it didn't matter. Illyan tossed some tasty scraps his way, which ended up getting Allegre promoted permanently to a desk and running the covert ops division of ImpSec Komarr. Then Allegre pissed off someone else and spent a couple months doing grunt work, which was how Alexei first met him, and then Allegre got another promotion. And stayed on Komarr.

Alexei's encountered Allegre a few times over the years and now Allegre's running ImpSec Komarr and unless something changes soon, Allegre's going to run out his career, never having served anywhere else.

Certain people in ImpSec headquarters have certain views on why this is, ranging from the obvious to the really obscure, but Alexei figures that if Petya doesn't give a damn about Allegre's family, then there's no way Illyan does. And if Petya's the major factor involved here, then Allegre's refusal makes some kind of sense. Allegre's much more likely to encounter Petya on Komarr, as a way station between wormhole jumps, than on Barrayar, where every move Petya makes is under intense scrutiny.

None of this is the point right now, but Alexei wouldn't be who he is in what he does if he didn't spend far too much time and effort on who's fucking who in the Vorbarr Sultana social scene. And Petya might refuse officially to be part of that, but that's just him fooling himself.

"Miles Vorkosigan," General Allegre repeats himself, and Alexei nods. " _Lieutenant_ Miles Vorkosigan."

"I know," Alexei says mournfully. "It's never fair, is it? When I was his age, I was knee-deep in treason plots, and he has his own fleet."

"And what does Captain Illyan want me to do about this?" Allegre asks, probably hoping the answer is nothing at all, you're just being informed in case of emergency.

"Lieutenant Vorkosigan is supposedly a courier officer. So, what you normally do when they come in from the cold. Debrief him, pass along Commodore Boothe's best wishes, and send him back out."

Allegre has a look on his face that Alexei suspects everyone does right after they've been read into the Dendarii Mercenaries operation. "Of course I'll pass along any and all sealed orders," he begins. "But... _why_ is he coming here?"

"Keeping up covert appearances," Alexei says. "He has to show his face every six months or so or we start getting whispers back home that he's actually dead and ImpSec is covering it up. Stupid, I know, because if anything did happen to Lord Miles, Lord Vorkosigan would be on the next ship home. But that's Vorbarr Sultana for you. Full of idiots and treason."

"I prefer Komarr," Allegre says completely analytically, and if Alexei didn't know that certain people in Headquarters want Allegre to come in from the cold himself, he'd probably believe that Allegre's just mentioning this as an aside and not noting it for the record. Allegre protests a lot, Alexei'd been warned, and it's his job to try to soften him up. 

It's probably useless. Now, if they could get _Petya_ to do it, maybe they'd have a better chance at it.

"The capital does have its good points," Alexei says. "Food's better. There's a nice Keroslav bakery on the way in and everyone swears by their scones."

"There are several in Solstice," Allegre says. "It's been thirty years since the invasion, you realize. A century since contact."

"Yeah, but it's not the same," Alexei says.

Allegre sighs. "I don't have time for pleasantries. Tell General Diamant that I'm still not interested in becoming his deputy."

"He's planning on retiring in a couple years, so I don't think his _deputy_ is what's on offer," Alexei says. "Not that I know anything about that, of course."

"Of course you don't," Allegre says. "Illyan just sent a Major to deliver a message because he's feeling wasteful."

"No, because this is so highly classified, we're not currently reading anyone in by written message, no matter how carefully secured," Alexei says. "It's very new, barely a year. This could blow up horribly in our faces. This fleet is the Emperor's most highly classified of all highly classified operations. Everyone who knows about it has been read in specifically. There are members of the General Staff who don't know yet," Alexei adds. "Therefore, by being read in, you've been added to a very short list, which is an actual list that Illyan is keeping. Which is why Captain Illyan is having you do this, rather than giving it to Booth along with the rest of his packages. The usual security warnings apply; I'm sure I don't need to tell them to you."

"You'll be teaching Illyan memorization tricks/techniques /mnemonics next," Allegre mutters.

Alexei rewards his humor with a bright smile. "That's the spirit, sir. You have to embrace some fatalism when you're dealing with all the politics."

"A Vorkosigan in covert ops. _Someone's_ being fatalistic," Allegre says.

"You won't think that after you meet Miles," Alexei assures him. "Trust me, this is probably the least dangerous thing he could have fallen into. There's a whole section inside Domestic Affairs devoted to making sure he doesn't topple the Imperium by accident."

Allegre looks like he's getting a headache. "And you gave him a mercenary fleet?"

"He's effective," Alexei says. "You heard about Count Vordrozda?"

Allegre does not look amused. "Yes."

"Right, right, General Ulanov, the public executions, of course you've heard _that_ part of it," Alexei brushes over. "But other than the head of Vorhartung Security being, well, publicly separated from his head, did you hear about how Vordrozda was stopped? Miles Vorkosigan showed up and, in under an hour, had Vordrozda publicly admitting to treason. Domestic Affairs didn't manage that in months."

"Ulanov strangling the investigation didn't help," Allegre offers.

"Thanks, but no." Alexei sighs. "Politics. That whole thing. I offered to fall on my sword but Illyan told me to not be an idiot, because he already had a surplus of Vor idiots and didn't need another one. Then he told me to make myself useful. We're still holding courts-marital and running internal investigation over it. It should never have gotten that far."

"I prefer Komarr," Allegre repeats mildly. "You should take a look around and see the sights while you're here, Major. In fact, feel free to do it now."

Alexei just grins.

 

3.

The first thing on his schedule this morning, and hadn't been there yesterday, is a two-hour block of time for Colonel Vortala for some sort of Imperial briefing, no further notes.

Vortala, when he arrives ten minutes early, looks uncomfortable and like he's trying unsuccessfully to find the humor in the situation. "Sir," he says brightly. "I'm here to brief you about the Vor."

Guy blinks at him. "Really?"

"I know," Vortala groans/complains/exhales in frustration. "But it's tradition. I'm the highest ranked Vor in ImpSec -- I mean that socially, you don't have to call Colonel Vorkalloner and tell him I'm conveniently forgetting him -- and so I get to do it. Um. Am honored by the Emperor's choice in me for this important, vital duty. I had to do it to Racozy, too. That man's spent twenty years living in Aral Vorkosigan's pockets; he _knows_ all this already." Vortala pauses. "And so do you, I'm sure," he adds charitably.

"Weren't you the one complaining about how Lord Vorkosigan is filling my head with complete lies about Vor infighting?" Guy asks. "Because I think you were."

"Lies is such a strong word," Vortala mutters. 

"Did someone have to do this to _Illyan_?" Guy asks.

Vortala nods, looking even more glum. "Lady Alys. It was all part of the Lord Regent's plan to get the Vorinnises to report to ImpSec and not work in parallel or against each other, get us down to only one intelligence organization working the High Vor scene. And it worked," he adds. "Well enough. Lady Alys refused to deal with anyone other than the Chief, though. So it's probably going to fall apart now."

 

"Did someone have to do this to Illyan?"

"Lady Alys," Vortala answers. "It was all part of the Lord Regent's plan to get the Vorinnises to report to ImpSec and not work in parallel. He wanted only one intelligence [group] working the High Vor scene at once."

 

"My ma's a Vorinnis," Vortala says, hurt.

 

"We'll just tell everyone that you're ensuring Piotr's good behavior."

[maybe move this into next day?]

 

5.

Tomorrow the Emperor's convening his Council for the last time before his wedding, so tonight all of the emergencies should be political ones. The six of them -- Alexei, Allegre, the department heads for Komarran Affairs, Domestic Affairs, Sergyaran Affairs, and General Markouizos of Galactic Affairs -- have a roster, with two of them on duty at any time. Tonight, it's Alexei and Ruslan Rogonov of Komarran Affairs, so when the emergency report comes in, it comes to Alexei first.

 _D. Vorrutyer attacked_ , says the emergency report from the perimeter man, and Alexei has a smile a little, because, no, ImpSec still hasn't figured out what the hell they're going to do when Vorrutyers prove that there is nothing they won't do to either inherit or screw their relatives out of inheriting. _No fatalities. En-route to VorP._

"Keep at a distance," Alexei responds over the command channel. "Don't make contact unless necessary. Report every ten minutes."

"Yes, sir."

Alexei last saw Guy a few hours ago when he'd come to relieve him, and then Guy had gone to the Vorkosigans for, he said, dinner. Uh-huh. Sure. Right. And Alexei was still born yesterday.

It's past midnight, but Guy isn't scheduled to report back to HQ until an hour before they have to get the Emperor to Vorhartung Castle. Alexei would give it a ten percent chance that Guy ever intended to return to his apartment tonight. But maybe the fates are smiling on him.

He'd be shocked if they are.

But it's an attack on someone trying to be a Count and all caught up in political maneuvering, so while it's not an assassination attempt on a ruling Count, it's still something the Chief of ImpSec needs to know about immediately. Even if he's sleeping. Even if he's in the middle of having sex. Even if it means waking up both him and Petya Vorkosigan to do it.

Alexei did not sign up for this when he signed up for ImpSec. Waking up people and interrupting sex, sure. That's part of the deal. Waking up his boss and one of his cousins, who also happen to be in bed together? He'll be keeping his eyes -- both sets -- politely averted, thanks.

He calls up the head of Guy's protection detail on the command line. "Location on General Allegre."

"Vorkosigan House," comes back loud and clear.

This isn't a night for Alexei's luck. He cuts the channel and keys up Petya's private comconsole. The priority signal is answered less than a minute later. Petya looks bloody exhausted.

"Oh, it's you," Petya says flatly. "You want Guy. Is this security-sensitive enough that you're kicking me out of my own bedroom?"

"No," Guy says from behind him. Petya steps aside. "If it was, he _should_ have had my security yank me from the room. What is it, Colonel?"

"Dono Vorrutyer's been attacked," Alexei says.

"That was inevitable," Petya mutters out of the vid pickup area. "Richars's never been one for legal means of getting what he wants."

Which is pure slander because Richars was never convicted, but Alexei doesn't bother to touch it. Vorrutyer politics are a headache. "We're still collecting intelligence on the details," Alexei continues. "The perimeter guard is working under the assumption that this is a personal, political attack on a potential Count's Heir and not a coordinated attack on the Counts."

"Small treason, not big," Guy interprets, yawning. "Any arrests?"

"No," Alexei grimaces. "And Richars Vorrutyer cannot be detained on suspicion without an Imperial order because he already has an Imperial order to appear before the Counts in the morning. I can wake up the Emperor and get that order, if you so order, sir."

"That's not necessary. Just keep an eye on him," Guy says. "Who else could this be?"

"Do you want the long list or the short one, sir?" Alexei asks.

Guy treats that like the joke that it is and gives him a tired smile. "Prepare a brief," he orders. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Petya's going to kill him for this. Alexei knows it. It's going to be horrible and will probably involve him teaching Maxim's kids to insult the General Staff and look completely innocent while doing it.

 

 

6.

Guy Allegre's a guest at the Emperor's wedding.


	8. Petya and Guy: the morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am frankly unsure of the timeline on the writing of this. As fics ate other fics and things got moved around, broken out, and then put elsewhere, I _kept fucking around_ with doing the morning after. I _think_ that this is what eventually got pulled out of the draft and let to sink or swim on its own, but for all I know, there's another thing lurking around somewhere.
> 
> I think this might be the third place I tried having Guy and Vortala Talk About The Vor...
> 
> (Somewhere there's also the morning after the proposal, I think)

Title: First Day  
Summary: Morning after the dinner party/Guy's first day as chief

 

 

[move this into a morning after thing]

 

Petya wakes up before Guy.

 

"Make yourself comfortable," Petya says. "By all means, satisfy your curiosity." He actually smirks at Guy's disbelieving look. "You're ImpSec. I'm never going to have your full attention when you're surrounded by distractions like a secured comconsole."

Guy wonders if he's supposed to be insulted by the implication that he doesn't know how to ignore distractions, but Petya's offering an olive branch. No, he's practically rolling over and showing his belly. _Petya really wants this_ , Guy realizes with a start. This isn't just some fling for him. Not if he's offering up his privacy for further invasion.

"Thank you," Guy says and Petya colors nicely, but then waves it away and finishes getting some clothes on.

Guy turns his attention to the comconsole. It's open to perusing and Guy doesn't look beneath for any security layers. This is a sign of Petya's trust, and Guy's not going to fuck this up by prying further. If Petya's locked anything away, then it can stay that way. Guy's not going to look.

The District financials are front and center, which Guy pointedly ignores, because there's being obvious and then there's being obnoxious, and that's clearly Petya being obnoxious.

 

There are some messages on his comconsole from a Lord Artem Vorhagen. Guy frowns, that wasn't any Vor name he could remember. He keys one of the messages up and stares, in surprise, at a young Ivan Vorpatril. 

"He used that when he wanted to talk about his father," Petya says from behind him. Guy doesn't turn around. "It started when he was young. He wanted to keep the messages from Miles poking through them, possibly also from his mother as well. He kept it up because I suppose it made him feel special, like he had a secret, something no one could take from him."

"Interesting code name," Guy says.

Petya looks... disturbed. "It's rather messily mixed up with Vorbarra armsmen," he says apologetically. 

"You aren't going to offend me," Guy says, not sure if he actually means that. He's very sure that Petya could offend him, if he really wanted to. But he isn't going to make Petya talk around things just to spare Guy's feelings. Petya really doesn't need any more encouragement to talk around things.

"All right," Petya says. He stares at Guy for a moment, before continuing. "Artem was the name Ivan was supposed to have, his grandfather's. As for the other, I had the story from Padma, who had it from Xav. When the death squad broke in, Artem Vorpatril grabbed Padma from his mother and handed him off to one of his armsmen that he had seconded from Xav, named Hagen, and ordered Hagen to run and not look back. Later, Artem and Princess Sonia's bodies were found, mangled, and caught up in each other. Hagen, no one's fool, didn't look back and didn't stop running, realizing that if the Emperor had ordered the deaths, nowhere was safe. He eventually made his way back to Xav. It took two days and I gather it was a much more terrifying journey for him than Padma ever let on when he was telling me about this. Possibly Xav was trying to spare him from the nightmares or Padma was trying to spare me from them; Padma certainly had enough of his own already that centered around his parents and that war." Petya pauses for a long moment. "I do know that Xav didn't trust Hagen at his word. He did blood tests at Green Army Headquarters, wanted to make sure it wasn't Yuri's idea of a sick joke. That wasn't exactly a week of taking an armsman's loyalty as read."

Guy swallows hard. "What happened to Hagen?"

"Died in the war," Petya answers promptly. Of course Petya would have figured out that would be his first question. "He's in with the armsmen in the Imperial Cemetery. Padma used to take me there after we'd visited Xav."

The _loyal_ armsmen. Not the ones buried in unmarked graves as traitors.

 

 

 

He cups Guy's cheek with his hand and rubs his thumb across Guy's lips. "You can be very intimidating when you want to. And even when you don't, I've noticed. Your scowl can be quite menacing."

Guy wraps his fingers around Petya's hand, but doesn't pull it away. "Menacing?" Yes, he's been told that before, but that's always been related to duty. Never off-duty.

"Well, not to me, I'm immune," Petya dismisses. "I just find it-- it makes me want to kiss you until you fall apart in my arms," he admits. He pulls back. "I'd like to meet them, your family," he says. "If-- whenever you'd like."

"I would like you to meet them," Guy says. "Menacing? I don't--"

"Oh, you do," Petya says. "Very stubborn look, and then you scowl with your eyes first. It's very effective. But," he adds charitably, "I'm sure your family is immune to it, too. I mean, you probably get it from them. It's probably genetic. I doubt they notice. I mean, I barely notice Ivan trying to look stupid. Certain things are just so common that they're invisible."

 

Title:  
Summary: Day after Allegre's promotion. First day / It's General Allegre's first day as Chief of ImpSec. 

 

The first thing on his schedule this morning, and hadn't been there yesterday, is a two-hour block of time for Colonel Vortala for some sort of Imperial briefing, no further notes.

Vortala, when he arrives ten minutes beforehand, looks uncomfortable and trying to find the humor in the situation. "Sir," he says brightly. "I'm here to brief you about the Vor."

Guy groans. "Really?"

"I know," Vortala groans/complains/exhales in frustration. "But it's tradition. I'm the highest ranked Vor in ImpSec -- I mean that socially, you don't have to call Colonel Vorkalloner and tell him I'm conveniently forgetting his commission date -- and so I get to do it. Um. Am honored by the Emperor's choice in me for this important, vital duty. I had to do it to Racozy, too. That man's spent twenty years living in Aral Vorkosigan's pockets; he _knows_ all this already."

"Did someone have to do this to Illyan?"

"Lady Alys," Vortala answers. "It was all part of the Lord Regent's plan to get the Vorinnises to report to ImpSec and not work in parallel. He wanted only one intelligence [group] working the High Vor scene at once."

 

"My ma's a Vorinnis," Vortala says, hurt.

 

[maybe fwap this into Vortlaa/Guy interaction thing?]


	9. Petya among the Vorrutyers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The infamous Vorkosigan Surleau one that I couldn't finish because I kept wanting to strangle Petya.
> 
> This was going to be a bit of an exploration of Petya and Vorrutyer stuff. I enjoy having Petya and By interact, and then Petya was going to introduce Guy to his dead mom. AND I WANTED TO STRANGLE PETYA SO MUCH. So that never got finished.

Summary: Some people have embarrassing relatives. Petya has the Vorrutyers. 

 

Byerly Vorrutyer is one of Petya's relatives who, Petya is sure, would improve Vorbarr Sultana society a great deal by moving to Sergyar and taking up worm farming. He is a waste of air and space.

He is also, as Petya had just learned, a counter-intelligence agent and well-regarded as such. Well-regarded, that is, until he did his best to implode his career over the Vorrutyer Countship succession case. Petya hopes that wasn't intentional. He's not sure he could deal with having a cousin that unbelievably stupid.

Miles, Petya learns in the first five minutes of talking to Byerly, has already given Byerly a dressing-down for the ages for his very sloppy attempt at covert ops. Petya also learns that Byerly has been having very enjoyable sex with one of the junior Vortalas -- thanks to small favors, not Colonel Alexei Vortala, which would make Petya's head ache and wonder if everyone in ImpSec really was fucking someone in the Vorkosigan social circle, and damn Miles for putting that idea in his head -- and had been wondering if they could get away to Beta long enough to enjoy the Orb. 

Byerly digresses often. Petya's head is starting to hurt. He wonders if this is the universe's revenge for all the times he deliberately did this to his relatives to get them off of topics he didn't want to talk about. But, in this if in nothing else, Byerly is clearly ImpSec. Like all of them, he has never learned the art of talking about absolutely nothing at great length, but, unlike them, he's never learned the self-control to say nothing both with his mouth and with his reactions.

Petya wishes this were a fast-penta interrogation. Oh, he really does. Because Byerly isn't hooked up on interrogation drugs, isn't being coerced. He's sitting in the library of Vorkosigan House, feet up on the furniture, and partly whining about Miles and partly bragging that it all turned out all right in the end.

There are times when Petya is ashamed of being part-Vorrutyer. This is one of them.

"Are all Vorrutyers crazy," Petya asks mildly when Byerly finishes his monologue on Dono stealing his clothes and how Richars's court case is going. Count or not, Richars is still Vor enough to need to be tried by his peers in Vorhartung Castle. It will be coming up on the docket soon. Petya hopes Miles will be on planet for that vote. It's sheer cowardice, but Petya does not want to cast that vote himself; there's just too much history of too many Vorrutyers stabbing each other in the back over inheritance. But Miles should want it. He could impress his lady love. "Or is it only my close relatives? If I conducted a survey of the lesser lines, would I find out that this is genetic? Or is just Vorbarr Sultana society that drives you all mad?"

"It's the Vorkosigan line that's your problem," Byerly says cheerfully. "You forget I know your brother. He's crazier than all Vorrutyers multiplied together."

"Vorrutyers multiplying together," Petya says, "is a great cause of this, I am quite sure."

"Yes, but it was a Vorkosigan who thought it a good idea to arrange for his son to marry a second cousin," Byerly says. "No offense to your sainted grandfather, but did he know anything about genetics at all?"

"He was descended from Pierre le Sanguinaire," Petya says. "The madness had to show up eventually. We are all grateful that it was never a permanent condition, only a passing fancy."

"Yes, yes," Byerly waves his hand at him. "Are you going to keep insulting me and my ancestors -- our _shared_ ancestors -- or are you going to answer Lady Alys's question?"

"I haven't decided yet," Petya says.

"I requested you," Byerly says. "I was given a choice of potential handlers and your name topped my list of people I could work with."

"You mean stand to be seen associating yourself with on a regular basis," Petya mutters.

"You are a cousin," Byerly says. "And a peer of my class. And--"

"And a civilian, so it's not suspicious. And never ImpSec, so it's not potentially dangerous. Yes, Byerly, I know. You are not the first covert ops counter-intelligence agent I've met." Nor the first one he's been a handler for, but that isn't a fact he advertises. He was a Major in the Diplomatic Corps. It can be taken as read.

"I was about to say a well-known homosexual," Byerly says with a grin. A grin that falters when he sees Petya's reaction. "Piotr--"

"Oh, shut up," Petya says, irritated. He rubs at his temples. "Byerly, you give me a headache. And, no. I will not permit you to let it be known among your friends that you are attempting to court me."

"Court you," Byerly repeats. "Piotr, you are extremely old-fashioned at times. I was going to let them think we were fucking."

"All Vorrutyers are crazy," Petya repeats. "All of them. Don't be stupid, we're close cousins."

"And not attempting to breed, unless you have plans to head to Beta Colony yourself. No one on Barrayar would call it incest. I don't see what the problem is. We're not that closely related."

"You are not," Petya repeats, "going to let it be known among the town clowns that we are having sex."

"Jealous lover?" Byerly asks, trying to bring back some levity into the conversation.

Pym clears his throat from the doorway. "My lord," he says. "General Allegre is here to see you."

 _Speak of the devil and he appears_ , Petya is very close to saying. He bites down on it. "Thank you, Pym. Lord Vorrutyer was just leaving. I'll show him out."

"Lord Vorrutyer?" Byerly asks softly as Petya conducts him to the door. "Lord Vorkosigan, you flatter me."

"You're a Count's unconfirmed named heir until Dono and Olivia pop open a son," Petya says. "Get used to it."

"Yes, I've been trying," Byerly complains, "but it's doing terrible things to my clownish reputation. People might think I'm getting respectable."

"Well, you're not giving them yet another Vorrutyerish scandal of you fucking me," Petya says. "I'll give you my answer later, when I've decided on it."

"Allegre isn't here for that?" Byerly asks with some surprise. "I assumed you were just playing mind games tonight and had already decided."

"General Allegre does not conduct briefings on Domestic Affairs counter-intelligence operatives," Petya says, exasperated. "Byerly, sometimes you are very much an idiot."

"I do my best," Byerly says cheerfully, and vanishes into the night.

Petya turns around to see Guy leaning back against a wall, arms crossed. Petya knows that look on him. It means he is laughing hysterically, but is too well-trained to show it.

"If that's my competition," Guy says, nodding towards the closing door, "the Vor really have degenerated. I'd've thought they could field someone better to court you than that Vorrutyer twit."

"Byerly wishes," Petya grumbles. "And the worst thing is, he probably actually does. Vorrutyers," he curses. "All crazy. All of them."

"I wouldn't know," Guy says. "And the one in front of me seems perfectly sane." He pauses and Petya instinctively looks over his own shoulder. They seem to be perfectly alone in the hallway. Petya's armsmen are very good at being invisible. "The weddings and their aftermath are finally, officially, over," Guy says. "ImpSec leaves are now permitted."

Petya grins. "And when does yours start?"

Guy leans close and brushes his lips against his ear. "An hour ago," he whispers.

Petya's grin widens and he wraps one arm around Guy's waist, holding him close. "And how long do you have? A day?"

"Three," Guy pronounces. "So, my lord, when you threatened to kidnap me to Vorkosigan Surleau as soon as reasonably possible--"

"Oh," Petya says, "that was no threat, sir. That was a promise." He smirks. "I will teach you to ride a horse, city boy. And you will enjoy it."

"Don't get too confidant," Guy says. "I'm going to chain you to the bed."

"I love," Petya murmurs against his lips, "your promises."

 

\---

 

Petya falls asleep in the aircar, head relaxed against Guy's shoulder, and Guy settles in to watch the scenery and amuse himself by trying to guess which part of the security escort is for him and which is for Petya.

He gently rubs Petya's shoulder right before they descend to land and Petya barely flinches as he wakes.

 

 

 

 

 

They get to the lake house a little after midnight; Petya hadn't been interested in wasting any time, and Guy didn't even pretend that his bag wasn't already packed and in his groundcar, waiting.

Petya's never brought Guy here, but Guy's been to the lake house before when managing the Emperor's security, and maybe even before that, to report to the Prime Minister -- Petya doesn't ask questions he knows Guy isn't allowed to answer -- 

There isn't time tonight to do anything other than go to sleep, and Petya shows Guy up to his suite immediately. He hesitates a moment and then nods to himself. "I'm going to burn/to be burning an offering in the morning," he says. "I always do it the first morning I'm here if I've been here overnight. You're welcome to join me, but please don't feel like you have to."

"I would be honored," Guy says. He wonders who the offering is for, that Petya does it that regularly, but then dismisses the concern. He'll find out in the morning and if Petya doesn't want to tell him until then, well, Guy can just damn well wait until Petya's ready to tell him.

 

"My cousins are idiots," Petya says to Guy. "All of them. Idiots."

Guy mumbles an assent, then says, "are you going to take over being Byerly's handler during Lady Alys's vacation?" Petya hesitates and Guy asks, "is my pillow talk too--"

"No, I don't mind talking work in bed," Petya says. "I have no expectations of getting you when you're not Chief of ImpSec." Guy gives a short laugh. "Just as you have no expectations of getting me when I'm not, well, all of my titles and responsibilities. We don't get to pick and choose them, or take them off just because we're post-coital. Now, talking about work _during_ sex, I'm afraid I have to draw the line there. But in the aftermath... well, the fact is, I haven't decided."

"Diplomatic Corps," Guy quotes ruefully, "does not, after all, _always_ mean spy. Only occasionally. As necessary. Or we're in the mood."

"You got Illyan drunk, didn't you?" Petya accuses. "That's shameful. And slanderous."

"Oh?"

"Illyan doesn't appreciate us," Petya complains theatrically. "He thinks the Corps is just another arm of ImpSec, the public arm, the _respectable_ arm. And just because he is, sometimes, on rare occasions, entirely correct, from the opposite point of view, doesn't invalidate my overall point which is--"

"That you were involved in joint missions," Guy interrupts, the quotation from a report clear in his voice, "with ImpSec--"

"You were the one who told me that I wasn't a spy," Petya points out. "Because I don't have the implanted allergy. You yourself said that."

"Yes," Guy agrees, "and now I've reviewed your file and I would like to say: Lord Vorkosigan, I apologize, I was wrong. The Corps protests too much. I should have realized. It was my mistake. I assumed you lot were better liars."

"I love ImpSec," Petya says to the pillow. "Only you can make 'you aren't as good a liar as I thought' into a character fault."

"In ImpSec, it is," Guy says.

"The Corps," Petya says slowly, "are not ImpSec. Sometimes we work _with_ them, but never _for_ them. The chain of command is quite clear. When it comes to embassies and interplanetary relations, you answer to us. It is never the other way around."

"I know all about nice legal fictions," Guy says. "And also self-delusion. And, Petya, I know you dreamed of being ImpSec. You are protesting too much."

Petya sighs. "Perhaps. I was always so jealous of Miles, you know. Through a series of spectacular failures, he conned his way into ImpSec and ship duty. And meanwhile, I spent twenty-five years eating meals in the name of interplanetary cooperation."

"You were damned good at it," Guy says.

"That's not the point," Petya says. "I got over it and gave up childish things. And then had to deal with the desk side of it all, with no hope of a break from the monotony and boredom. I'd had advanced ImpSec training and all it meant was that I was extremely well-placed to be a civilian handler. Damn them all."

 

 

Petya's wearing a civilian suit, not the Vorkosigan House uniform that Guy had been expecting. When he asks, Petya shakes his head. "Not for this," he says.

They walk out to the old cemetery under the rising sun. Petya is walking slower than his normal pace, which tends to eat up the ground with a purpose, but he seems, not reluctant, but wanting to drag this out as long as he can. Guy matches his strides and looks around with an eye towards security, feeling terribly out of place.

Petya stops before a marker labeled _Therese Nathalie Vorrutyer Vorkosigan_. No dates, no honorifics. And no epitaph, nor room for one. If you don't know who she was, Guy supposes, they don't want you to. Guy wonders why Petya hasn't had that fixed. As Lord Vorkosigan, he certainly has the power to do it. As a son, he certainly has the right, to say nothing of the responsibility.

"I know what it looks like," Petya says quietly, setting up the tripod. "But, believe me, this is better than-- what it was. My grandfather didn't even want her body here. There was a huge fight about it. My grandfather said he didn't want some dishonorable frill buried as a Vorkosigan. My other grandfather said that she had married a Vorkosigan and given birth to a Vorkosigan, so she should lie among them. She only got this much," Petya nods to the marker with his chin, "because I threw a fit. Supposedly. Gran'da... had a way of bending the truth when he wanted to." 

Petya finishes with the tripod and then places the incense and an already prepared clump of hair. "I don't burn anything special," he says, digging his thumbs into the bowl. "I burned my genetic scan once, when I was a kid. I wanted her to know that I knew, I guess. That I knew how much of a Vorrutyer I was, how absurdly inbred I was, how much of her was in me. And to tell her that I knew I wasn't a bastard, no matter what people might whisper. I knew she might have broken her honor, but the son she bore was her husband's. I wanted her to know that I knew."

He lights the taper and sets the offering burning. Petya takes a deep breath. "Hi, Mama," he says. "This is Guy." And then he doesn't say anything more as the offering burns.

Then he tips the ashes out onto the grave.

"We're a bit scattered," he says, staring at the ashes. "They wanted Gran'da buried in the Imperial cemetery in the capital. Not only for himself, I think, but because then they could return my grandmother to Xav's family without it insulting anyone. But Gran'da wanted to be buried with Vorkosigans. Da wants to be here, too. But Padma's in with Xav's family in the capital, and so're his parents. The Vorpatrils didn't put up any kind of fight; the Lord Regent said Padma would be buried as Xav's grandson, because he was killed for it, so they buried him next to his parents. I used to take Ivan to visit. It felt right; Padma used to take me to Xav's grave. I think Ivan's will says he'll be buried there, I don't know. Years ago, he told me he'd petitioned for it. Gregor wouldn't deny him that. But I'll be here."

 

"We call it suicide, but let us be perfectly honest with each other: it probably wasn't." Petya rubs his temples. "I figure it was Ges Vorrutyer," he says. "Putting my father in his debt by getting rid of my scandalous mother. That it was his sister... I don't honestly think he would have cared. When he spoke to me of her, it was always with... I got the impression that... oh, to hell with it. He loved my father more. No, he was obsessed with my father more. But we call it suicide. It's automatic by now. I wonder if my mother is satisfied with that. I... I used to like to think that it was murder, because that meant that she hadn't left me willingly. That she hadn't abandoned me. That she was stolen from me and it wasn't her idea. But... they're right. Suicide is easier. It's neater. There's no murderer wandering around free. There's no... there were so many people who could have killed her and gotten away with it, not the least of them being my father. He swore to me that it wasn't him, but I... I've never entirely believed him. I always thought, it would explain so much, if it were him, why he-- why he didn't want to have much to do with me when I was a kid, make it not be my fault for not being-- but if anyone knew for certain, it was Negri. But I didn't want to know, by the time I could have legitimately asked him. Because what if my father was lying to me? What if it had been him? I couldn't... that's too much knowledge for me to bear. Suicide is easier. Cleaner. Simpler. Someone got away with murder, but I don't need to know who it was. I don't need to know who stole my mother from me."

Petya rubs the inside of his left wrist distractedly. "But in the spirit of true honesty... I was terrified of Ges. So maybe I want it to be him, because of that. He scared me more than Serg did. I knew the worst Serg would do to me was kill me. Ges wanted revenge on my father and he saw me as a way to get that. And maybe there was something more. I was reaching the age my father'd been when Ges had first gotten his talons into him. Maybe he saw me as a second Vorkosigan he could get to corrupt. Serg had probably surpassed him by then. Maybe Ges wanted a challenge. Maybe he thought I could be another chance. I don't know. I don't like to think about it. I have nightmares enough about him to spend my waking hours contemplating it. I think he wanted to eat me alive and leave only a shell that he could fill with his influence, make me just another one of his creatures. I used to blame Serg for Komarr, but Padma used to blame Ges, and I just don't know. Negri knew, probably. Maybe Ges was right. Maybe I just want to keep blaming someone else for my father's mistakes."

 

 

 

 


	10. Guy and Petya, morning after Guy resigns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, here we are, the morning after Guy resigns/the proposal. Yanked out of Hold On because it really did need to end there. Featuring Petya _having no idea_ how the other half lives, at all. Petya wants to giftwrap everything and give it to Guy, and just really has no idea how to be a good boyfriend. As usual.

Title:  
Summary: Guy and Petya, morning after Guy resigns.

 

The morning after Guy's replacement takes oath as Chief of ImpSec, Guy looks at Petya...

 

The next morning, Guy looks at him over the blankets and says, somewhat blankly, "what _do_ lazy Vor lords do all day?"

That seems to wake up Petya up fast. He looks at Guy for a moment, lips twitching as he unsuccessfully fights a smile. "Do you want the long list or the short one?"

 

\--

 

"We should move," Petya says, an hour later.

Guy looks up at him from his very comfortable place on Petya's thigh. "Nng?" he asks coherently and starts to push himself up.

"Not this second," Petya clarifies. "In general. If you're going to-- you do _want_ to--"

"Stop freaking out," Guy says, and shifts himself up the bed more. "Yes, I'm moving in. What were you saying?"

"We should move," Petya says again. "To a-- this suite isn't really big enough for two people."

"The Vor are all idiots," Guy says to the ceiling. "This suite is big enough for a lot more than two people."

"Maybe, but it's not really meant for--" Petya starts, and Guy shuts him up with the careful application of a hand on his mouth.

"It's okay, you want to make a life together, you want a new start, maybe you'd like to stop sleeping in the same bed in which you first jerked off -- not that I don't find that generally to be really hot, by the way, and we can explore that at some future juncture, if you'd like -- so where were you thinking?"

Petya looks relieved. "Down the hall, in the East Wing, there's a bigger suite. Unused for I don't even know how long, but it's the same layout as the one on the third and the second. We would each have our own space, you'd have your own office, your own sitting room, could take over some of the rooms nearby if you wanted more."

Some of the parlors here that Petya dismisses as small are larger than the apartment that Guy rents but, admittedly, rarely sees. Guy doesn't want to consider how much space Petya thinks Guy would want, just to prove he can have his own space inside this behemoth of history. "Wherever you like is fine," Guy says.

"It doesn't have a built-in escape route like we have here," Petya says, "but it's close enough to one that I don't think it matters."

"Security briefings," Guy reminds him and Petya has the grace to look mildly chastised. __  
  
"Sorry," he says, and kisses Guy's shoulder, just above the knife scarring, to make up for it. "You'll like it. It's not two floors above the nursery, so it'll be quieter. And there's a nice picture window in the main study, I used to sit under it and, well, hide from people. But it captures the morning light beautifully."

Guy translates that as _used to fuck an old boyfriend beneath it_ , but Petya's too diplomatic to say that in bed with someone else. "I'm sure it looks wonderful in the morning."

"And in the afternoon," Petya admits, which is probably the most Guy's going to get out of him about that. 

 

 

"how much space do you think I _need_?" Guy asks, turning around in what Petya had assured him was a very capable office.

Petya frowns. "We could convert another bedroom if you need more."

"This place is larger than my apartment," Guy says.

"You don't spend any time in your apartment," Petya points out sensibly.

It's also larger than the Chief's office, but knowing Petya, he'd just point out that Vorrutyer architects know nothing about architecture beyond defensibility. And he'd have a point there.


	11. Petya meets Guy's family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this got fucked up when I ended up actually doing other things with Guy's family.
> 
> This is from REALLY early, you can tell because I hadn't forced everything to being present tense yet.

Title: Reunion  
Summary: In which Petya meets a member of Allegre's family. To Allegre's chagrin.

 

It's been a very enjoyable evening, Guy thinks. Petya had invited him to a private dinner, conducted in the very private sitting room outside his bedroom. The Viceroy and Vicereine were on Sergyar, Lord Auditor Vorkosigan and Lady Ekaterin were attending the symphony, and Lord Mark was still on Beta Colony. Vorkosigan House was as quiet as it ever got. Petya had Guy up against the back of the chair, kissing him hard, opening his lips with his tongue, his hands straining at the fastening on Guy's uniform while Guy did his best to keep Petya from falling off of him and also get Petya out of his house uniform. It had started by Petya pointing out that Guy had gotten cream on his cheek. And then putting his knee up on Guy's thigh and sitting on top of him to clean him off.

It is a very enjoyable evening, that is, until one of the Vorkosigan armsmen made a discreet noise from the door. Petya groaned against Guy's mouth, a groan that Guy could translate very easily. It was a very annoyed _I gave orders not to be interrupted_ with a side complaint of _I was about to have sex, why are you interrupting me?_ Petya pulled off of Guy and looked over his shoulder.

"Yes, Pym?"

You had to hand it to the Diplomatic Corps, Guy thought. Petya didn't sound out of breath or like he had just been caught necking by one of his servants. From the sound of him, Petya may have been behind his desk in the Ministry of Galactic Affairs, conducting a meeting.

And that thought shouldn't turn him on as much as it did. Guy knew that Countess Vorkosigan had certain thoughts about Barrayaran uniforms, and he wasn't interested in proving them right.

Guy pushed Petya off him firmly and set about making himself presentable. He knew from experience that no armsman was going to talk to him/acknowledge his presence while their lord was sitting on him, clearly in the middle of something sexual. Guy had a sneaking suspicion that it was written into the armsman handbook: you can talk to your oath-sworn liegelord about anything at absolutely any time. But never indicate that you are aware that the lady in question is present until the lady has recovered her modesty. Even if the lady in this scenario happens to be the male Chief of ImpSec and the armsman was a twenty-year's man in ImpSec. Possibly especially not, in that case, Guy muses.

 

When Guy had been studying Imperial history, he'd never anticipated meeting, let alone fucking, someone whose family featured so prominently in it. If he had, he sometimes thought, he would have paid a lot better attention. Since being assigned back to Vorbarr Sultana and taking up the post of section chief for Komarran Affairs, he had, of necessity, begun studying Countship histories more elaborately, because of the way High Vor society worked. It was strictly a professional interest.

Since taking up with Petya, the interest has, of a different sort of necessity, become a lot more personal. There are so many bits and pieces of history that he had thought trivial as a child, but mean the world to the Vorkosigans or the Vorpatrils or any number of Vor relatives that Petya can list off like what he ate that morning. 

Petya lives and breathes High Vor. Guy is simply making a study of it.

And Petya's view on it is fascinating to the analyst in Guy. As Chief of ImpSec, he would have had to become an expert on the Vor system anyway. It's his job to become immersed in it, but he must at all times remain separate. It was the Lord Regent who opened the Imperial Military Academy to proles, but it was Ezar who appointed the first non-Vor to be Chief of ImpSec.

And that was another strange thing to realize. Petya had known Negri. Petya had been scared of Negri. And it was not an intellectual fear, it was a realistic fear. Petya had met Negri the Great. And Petya had, if Allegre is reading between the lines in old reports correctly, seen Negri take his last breath.

And while Allegre had spent the Pretendership War stifling protests on Komarr, Petya had spent in as the Emperor's sole bodyguard. Guy reminded himself of that fact every time he felt tempted to overexplain or apologize for overly restrictive security measures. Petya, of all people, appreciated having multiple layers of security, and understood it.

Petya is getting himself presentable as well. Guy reaches over and adjusts the hang of Petya's tunic.

"Lieutenant Parivian has an urgent message for General Allegre, my lord."

Guy drew himself in and stood up straighter, completing his transformation from off-duty to on-duty. "Where is he?"

"Right outside, sir," Pym looks very disapproving of his former ImpSec colleagues. Well, Guy is pretty sure Parivian has no interest in seeing Guy with his hands inside Petya's clothing

 

[not Jerome, I just used that for his brother]

"Someone has tried to break into your apartment, sir. He claims to be your nephew."

"Which one?" Guy asks.

"Jerome, sir. His identification matches up with official records."

 

"I'll come with you," Petya says. "We haven't finished our conversation yet, and any relative of yours who can break into a secure building is someone I feel I should be warned about."

They have an active staring match for a moment. Guy supposes it would be too much to hope this isn't all over headquarters by the morning.

Eventually, Guy nods.

 

"Jerome is my sister Ina's fourth," Guy says. "He's also medically unqualified for the Service. It was a disappointment to everyone. His mother had been hoping that Jerome would be the first one to attend the Academy. Since then, Jerome has done his best to disappoint us all even further."

"Mm," Petya murmured uncommitally. "Mutation or illness?"

"If I say mutation, will you try to draft him into the Corps?" Guy asked him. "I've heard your speech. You want visible mutants and you want them twenty years ago."

"I promise not to draft anyone who doesn't want to be drafted," Petya says.

"It's neither," Guy says. "Simple physical limitation. The bottom half of his left leg was severed when he was seventeen. He has a prosthetic, but medical regs require full unaided mobility."

"Commodore Koudelka would disagree," Petya says. "Although Ensign Koudelka was already in the service and after his injuries, he was promoted to a desk job by the Regent. Typical Vor nepotism, you would say. Although not as bad as my brother, mind you, who never actually passed the physical and was shoved in by Imperial order."


	12. Petya and Ivan before Miles's wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ivan and Petya before Miles's wedding. I don't know where I was going with this, probably a lot of Ivan tearing out his hair, and Petya silently laughing at him.

Title:  
Summary: Miles's wedding.

 

"You're the only one I know who can get Miles to calm down," Ivan complains. "Can't you do something about him? Please?"

Ivan had burst into Petya's office in the Ministry of Galactic Affairs, brushing past his secretary and the armed ImpSec guards. Petya supposed that the secretary wouldn't turn away Petya's cousin clearly on a mission, and the ImpSec guards were scared of what Illyan would do if they killed the son of Lady Alys. 

Petya was supposed to be in meeting now. Luckily for Ivan, Minister Esterhazy/The Minister of the Interior and Under-Minister Vorinnis of Komarran Affairs had been detained by traffic. Otherwise, Petya desperately hoped, his secretary would have stopped Ivan. With force as necessary. Petya's secretary had been a gift from Allegre and could probably kill Ivan with one finger and without blinking.

Petya really loved Allegre sometimes.

"Get used to it, Ivan," Petya says. "He's getting married next week. This is nothing. He'll be progressively more hyper as the week goes on."

"You didn't see him yet today." Ivan says. "You don't know how he's acting. It's terrible. As Miles's Second, I am begging you, Petya, please, calm your brother down before I strangle him myself."

"Dump him into a vat of water," Petya suggests. "That worked last time, didn't it?"

"Opposite problem," Ivan says mournfully. He perks up. "I could probably do it again, though. Just to see if it fixes him."


	13. The one where they find out Aral is dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one where Gregor and Petya get told that Aral is dead. I had issues on POV in this, had some notes on switching it up, potentially even having it from Gregor's daughter's POV. 
> 
> This is a glorious/embarrassing display of my writing process, though. Random things thrown around, lines hanging in midair. Yepppp. I am totally clean, methodological writer.
> 
> *hides under the bed from the embarrassment of showing her underwear in public*

Title:  
Summary:

 

Two weeks before Midsummer, the Emperor and Empress are hosting

Alexei turns around to see Guy standing in the doorway to the command room, his face pale and dreadful. Guy's eyes rest on him.

"I need to speak with the Emperor," he orders hoarsely, "immediately."

Alexei's too well-trained to panic, and he congratulates himself on his voice not shaking as he relays the order over the command line to the Vorbarra armsmen in the room. On the monitors, Alexei watches Guy watch the armsman-commander lean forward to whisper in Gregor's ear. Gregor nods shortly and excuses himself from his conversation with Countess Vorinnis.

Alexei falls in line with Guy as Guy walks through the three rooms in succession to cut through the guardsman's entrance to the Emperor's private receiving room closest to the ballroom. 

The Emperor looks at Guy expectantly as he enters. Alexei settles into place by the door, mirroring the two armsmen. Alexei gives them a small signal, no, he doesn't know what this is. And Emperor's ears first is never good news.

"Sire," Guy begins formally, then he takes a half-breath and looks indecisive. "I, I suggest you sit down."

Gregor gives Guy a sardonic look, but then seats himself on one of the chairs and looks attentive. "What is it, Guy?"

Guy takes another breath, low in his chest, and shifts ever tighter into attention. "Priority message from Sergyar, sire. From Vicereine Vorkosigan. Count Vorkosigan died yesterday afternoon, Sergyar time. The medics at the scene say it was natural causes, sire, old age. We'll know more after the autopsy."

 _  
_ Alexei stares at the floor

"Oh," Gregor says, voice sounding small and very far away. He rubs at his cheek. "That's," he swallows hard, "not unexpected. Thank you, Guy."

Guy nods in acknowledgement.

Gregor looks over to Alexei, and then back towards his armsmen. "Minister-- Count Vorkosigan, please," he orders quietly, and the order is relayed through the comms, echoing slightly in Alexei's ear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summary: Of oaths and succession

 

When the priority message comes through, Chief's eyes-only, Guy skims it then barks an order through his wristcom for his secretary to get him in to see the Emperor immediately. Twenty minutes later, he's racing through the Residence, being paced by security and armsmen, none of whom know why. Later, Guy imagines, he'll hear back rumors that they've declared war, that something blew up, anything to justify the Chief of ImpSec rushing to get to the Emperor before someone else can.

His armsman guide leads Guy to the Emperor's private study, and Guy at a glance from the Emperor, closes the door behind them.

"What is it?" Gregor asks.

And Guy hands him a copy of the message and says, "Sire, an emergency report from Sergyar." Guy takes a deep breath and, before Gregor can give voice to any of the emotions fleeing across his face, says, "Viceroy Count Vorkosigan is dead, sire. Preliminary report says natural causes, but more details will follow."

 

Petya lifts his face from his hands. "Miles," he murmurs.

"I've sent a messenger," Gregor says. "And one to Mark," he adds.

 

"You-- you'll have my resignation as Minister as soon as we can agree on my replacement," Petya says. "I'm not... I'm not going to try to juggle that. There's too much..."

 

"Petya, if you have any intention of replacing Miles with an heir of your body, now would be the time."

Petya shakes his head. "Miles is Lord Vorkosigan now. I will not replace that. I won't replace him."

 

"if you are going to replace miles with an heir of your body, now would be the time."

Petya shakes his head. "miles is lord vorkosigan now. I will not replace that.'

 

"take oath."  
"it can wait. Your oaths as Lord Vorkosigan can suffice."

Petya shakes his head. "it can't."  
Gregor nods. "on your knees then, count Vorkosigan."

 

This will have to be redone later in front of the Counts assembled as witnesses, 

 

Petya goes down to one knee and places his hands between Gregor's. "With my soul on my breath and my word as my soul, I, Piotr Richars Vorkosigan, Count's blood and Count's choice to the Vorkosigan's Distract, swear myself-- swear myself, my honor, and my life in service to Emperor Gregor Vorbarra as a vassal, with-- with none standing between my loyalty to his word. On my name's word as Count Vorkosigan, oath-holder and liege lord of Vorkosigan's District, I swear loyalty and fealty for myself and the heirs of my body, my blood, and my choice to Gregor Vorbarra, Count of Vorbarra's District, Emperor of Barrayar, and his heirs of his body, his blood, and his choice. Until death releases me."

 

"How-- how are you?" Guy asks in an undertone.

Petya rubs at his wrist. "It's strange," he murmurs. "I've been waiting for this, imagined it so many ways, since I was two years old and he left me behind/left for the first time. And now it's here and I don't-- I expected it with the Karian mutiny, when I was seven[?], and then Komarr, and then for most of the war, I thought so often that the first word I was going to get would be someone calling me by his title, or worse, my grandfather's. And then the hundred and one assassination attempts and his heart... and after all that, it comes down to this. And I don't... I didn't expect this. This is not how I expected it at all."

 

Subordinate the counts to the crown


	14. Petya and Guy before Aral's funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Petya belatedly realizes he fucked up, a lot, with his dad, and he was never going to be able to fix it. Honestly, this thing made me cry a little.
> 
> (also, Barrayaran democracy (although I think in this case it was going to be constitutional monarchy?) gets into _everything_. It's like glitter, in a way.)

Title:  
Summary: night before aral's funeral.

 

The door guard doesn't even wait for Guy to say anything before reporting, "he's in the nursery, sir."

"And good evening to you, too, Corporal," Guy says.

The door guard gives Guy an apologetic salute, but Guy lets it go. Too many people have been coming and going in the past two days; he's had to order/triple the number of guards just to make sure each rotation wasn't completely ineffectual. Simon said something this morning about there being nearly as many guards around as during the height of the Regency. Guy didn't have the heart to check the numbers on it.

Guy climbs the circular staircase to the second floor, nodding to Armsman Roic, doing a nightly patrol. Guy takes a left at the staircase and heads to the back of the North Wing.

The door to the nursery is slightly ajar and the guard on duty gives Guy a salute as he stands aside to let him through.

Petya is sitting up on an overstuffed chair, holding little Taura against his chest. The baby looks to be sleeping, and Petya raises his eyes as Guy enters, smiling weakly at him.

Guy comes over and settles down into the chair across from him. He raises his chin in question and Petya nods.

"Finally sleeping," he says quietly. "She wasn't in the mood to sleep earlier, and I-- couldn't fall asleep. We've been keeping each other company."

Guy

 

"And to think I thought the day was at its worse when I got that letter from Miles starting _the good news is, I didn't give political asylum to minors_."

 

"Have you heard all about your brother's latest case?"

"Part of it," Petya says. "We were interrupted while he was explaining its genius. I expect during the rest of this he will get around to tell me how these ingenious investors were going to take over Komarr, where we don't allow democracy at anything other than the local level, through gaining a monopoly of planetary shares. But since it seemed a very long term plan -- on the order of generations, Miles said -- perhaps they assumed that Komarr would have achieved independence by the time they'd managed to steal everyone's vote. They'd have more luck taking over the Counts that way," Petya says, and then stutters to a halt.

 

"From the little Miles has told me, I imagine your Galeni would like it," Petya says. "The natural solution to prevent further machinations[wc] with their democracy, which the Komarrans are so very clear to us at every opportunity to tell us how much they value it, would be to translate the voting sharing concept into something that did not give one person more weight than any other. Barrayarans forcing Komarrans to be more democratic, if you will. As a price for returning to democracy, making damn sure it is democracy, in a form that Betans would recognize. Returning them to their original form, one person one vote, before the voting shares reached its current level of, what did Galeni call it? Absurdity? Mockery of the notion that they care about democracy as much as they keep insisting to us at every opportunity that they do? Depower the oligarchy, slip it in as a preventive measure against someone taking this sort of advantage in the future. Or really be Barrayaran about it and say that a deputy can only be deputy for one person and can't hold a vote in their own right, and since Komarran law already states that voting shares must be held by individuals... I think I'll leave this to Galeni. But he should enjoy this." 

"Democracy," Petya shakes his head. "Who in their right mind would let dead people vote? What an absurd fiction; the dead aren't voting, live people are just getting more and more votes and saying that's what the dead people want. I remember this, stealing people's voices and silencing everyone we don't agree with, it's called how we became Vor in the first place," he spits out. "And bundled votes. Whose idea was it to run a planet like it's one of Mark's start-up businesses that he's going to abandon once a Koudelka buys it out from underneath him?"

"Seventy-five people on this planet can vote," Guy reminds him. And fifteen of those votes are invested in the Minister's office, not in the Minister himself.

[Minister's votes are invested in the office, not in the man. The man loses it once he leaves office.]

"Yes, I know," Petya smiles tightly. "And lucky me, I get to count twice. Until Gregor gets around to finding me that replacement."

 

"Everyone agrees that our system is half-hazard, some wild weed that just grew out of the wars. No one says ours is some any kind of good idea. It gives me [space] to pass judgment on every other fucked up system out there that's hanging on, I don't even know, charisma and the fact that Gregor is shockingly popular, even now."

Guy clears his throat.

Petya waves a hand at him, and then settles it back down on Taura's head, keeping her in place. "Yes, yes, General Allegre, your point is well taken. And the fact that we have a secret police keeping everyone in line helps, too."

 

Petya stares off into the distance. "Cordelia's right, you know. It's completely untenable." His gaze snaps back to Guy and he has a peculiar smile on his lips. "By the way, when _is_ Gregor planning that constitutional convention for?" he asks conversationally.

Guy's mouth snaps shut. Petya laughs and it's enough to wake up the baby.

Taura takes that moment to wake up with a sleepy yawn. Petya smiles down at her and pulls gently at one of her dark curls, straightening it out, and then releasing it and letting it fall back into place. Catching Guy's unabashed smirk, Petya blushes slightly. "Padma did that to me all the time. He said it used to make me laugh. I just remember hating it, but I was older by then."

"You don't have need to know," Guy says quietly. "So you don't need to know."

Petya nods and hoists Taura up into a more comfortable position as she starts to suck on her sleeve. "I'm not allowed to," he suggests, "because I have, somehow, become the old, stodgy generation." He looks fondly at Taura. "Well, I can't dispute that these days."

 

"And maybe I am an old stuffy antique [wc] like my grandfather, because Miles says, here's a fascinating plan to steal Komarr, and my first reaction is, who in their right mind wants Komarr? Except for the people who live there. It's a worthless ball of rock that's really only valuable for the people who live there. They have no resources other than human achievement and their wormholes, and _we_ own the wormholes."

 

"You spent most of your career on Komarr," Petya says. "So you must have a better view of it than I do, I suppose. They're the ones who call-- called my father the Butcher."

 

"I've been thinking about life," Petya says, looking down at the baby. 

 

"They won't have memories of their grandfather," Petya says. "I wonder if this is how/ If this is how the children are going to remember their grandfather. I don't remember Xav at all, but I remember some of his funeral. Mostly Padma holding my hand on one side and my great-grandmother holding the other one. And I was older than the twins are.

 

"I'm supposed to give his eulogy tomorrow," Petya says, "and I have nothing to say. I-- nothing. Gregor gave me something he'd had prepared. I gather his speechwriters have eulogies for all of us, just waiting for them to be needed. No point in writing one of them at short notice when you can do it at your leisure and simply update it and revise as necessary. It has my father's complete military and political career, summed up very nicely. Very appropriately. I'm supposed to fill in the blanks for personal recollections, things that are-- things suitable for the public. And I have nothing to say."

Guy gives him a sympathetic look. "What have you been thinking about the most? You should talk about that."

"What, that horrible argument we had when I was about twelve/around twelve or so?" Petya asks. "We never did-- I can't believe I remember this, but-- the night after he surrendered the Regency, he said to me, will you now remember how to talk to me like I'm not your commanding officer? And I said, will you now stop talking to me like I'm a junior officer, and a wayward one at that? And we rehashed half that fight right there that night. It-- it'd all-- he'd taken me to the side after some event, told me off for being snide to one of his guests. A prole officer, his current protege. I forget the name. He said, he said being born a Vor is no excuse for being rude, especially not to a superior officer, even if he was a prole. He told me, you're to remember, they're superior officers. And I started-- he said, treat them like-- one of them, years later, cornered me in a diplomatic post, he was a Colonel by then, and asked me why the hell I was snubbing him with protocol, and I said, I was under orders to treat me as if he were my father, and he got-- he was very thoughtful about that, said it explained a lot."

"During the run-up to Komarr, when he was being a Headquarters Admiral. I thought-- this sounds so childish, but I'd-- I was jealous, really. He'd bring home these junior officers, getting them used to the Vor, I realize now, but... at the time, he'd bring them home, show them around, acclimatize them to it all, but I just wanted my father to myself, not my father being the great Admiral. I thought I was in competition with them, and hated them for it."

 

Him being mad at me for not being good enough, being a-- being a mistake, a reminder of-- too many painful memories. And I-- I wasn't-- I think I gave up after Miles was born. He was my commanding officer. I think I just gave up. Why did I give up? Maybe it was Padma who was the one holding us into any kind of-- Padma used to tell me, it would be better when I got older and stopped reminding him of my mother. And then Padma was gone."

 

"How bad is it?"

Petya smiles painfully. "It was always... he put it off until he had time. And we ran out of time. Miles and Mark inherited it from him, it looks like. Everything they were going to say to him, when they had time to stop over on Sergyar, when they were all on Barrayar, whenever. You'd think Miles would know about running out of time," He rubs at his tears and swallows hard. 

 

"Miles and Mark descended on me for stories about our Uncle Stefan. Something happened during Miles's last investigation that brought him up; I can't imagine what. Dead men who should have been someone important, could have changed their lives if they'd survived, something like that. I guess they didn't have much else to talk about, in the aftermath of finding out. I didn't have the heart to mention to either of them that if Uncle Stefan had survived, neither of them would exist, and I might not, either, there being no need to shove my father into a quick and horrible arranged marriage when he was barely of age if he'd had an elder brother to do it instead."

 

"I didn't have many stories. Gran'da mostly talked about him and Aunt Catherine in absolutes, like they were perfect and could do no wrong. Or by comparison to me, if I screwed up. Your uncle would never have done that, you know.

 

 

 

 

 

"What, that horrible argument we had when I was fourteen?" Petya asks. "We never did-- I can't believe I remember this, but-- the night after he surrendered the Regency, he said to me, will you now remember how to talk to me like I'm not your commanding officer? And I said, will you now stop talking to me like I'm a junior officer, and a wayward one at that? And we rehashed half that fight right there that night. Him being mad at me for not being good enough, being a-- being a mistake, a reminder of-- too many painful memories. And I-- I wasn't-- I think I gave up after Miles was born. He was my commanding officer. I think I just gave up. Why did I give up? Maybe it was Padma who was the one holding us into any kind of-- Padma used to tell me, it would be better when I got older and stopped reminding him of my mother. And then Padma was gone."


	15. Imperial heir, redux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I continue to need a name for Gregor's son, the end.

Title:  
Summary:

 

The medtech handed the baby to Gregor, who stared at the little bundle like he had never seen an infant before in his life.

"Piotr," he pronounced softly.

"Hm?" Petya asked.

Certain people in the room who Petya was probably going to kill later laughed softly.

"Piotr," Gregor said clearly.

Aral clasped his hand on Petya's shoulder before Petya could say a word. "Congratulations, sire."


	16. Alys and Cordelia at Gregor's fifth birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might have gotten the furthest of any fic that didn't even up getting finished (10 version control docs). If you heard me scream in frustration about a fic that kept resisting passing Bechdel, it was this one. ARGH, WHY COULDN'T THIS JUST PASS BECHDEL, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME, WHY ISN'T THIS WORKING *scraps and re-writes, again* Lather, rinse, repeat. Sigh.
> 
> The purpose of this fic was to have Alys show Cordelia around the power games and stuff going on at Gregor's birthday. Also features the closest I think I ever got to having it stated that Timmy Vorinnis (Kareen's brother) is meant to be the surgeon who was going to make sure Serg died at Escobar if Aral's plans didn't work. Um. Yeah. That was my intention for that character and I don't think it actually made it into anything, oops.
> 
> And that Padma's job on Aral's staff is to be the drunken wastrel cousin who finds out about plots, basically Ivan's role later: be a bright light to traitors who want a figurehead.
> 
> (And also lampshade how much school I kept having Petya take off.)

Title: The Emperor's Birthday  
Summary: Alys introduces Cordelia to Vorbarr Sultana  
Warnings: Discussions of/implied past torture.  
Tags: Past torture

 

 

Planning for the Emperor's Birthday Ball always takes at least two months, and the fact that it's the second one this year doesn't shorten the lead time at all. If anything, it's lengthened it. But they've had enough advance notice, thanks to Ezar's long illness. Alys can't imagine the throes of panic among the ladies in the capital if they'd had barely months to prepare for a second Birthday Ball. 

As it is, every Count's accountant is cursing inventively, although with less rage than any Vor lady without the wit to realize that Ezar wouldn't live to see Gregor's fifth birthday.

And they're very lucky, indeed, that it's Gregor's birthday they're celebrating. If it had been Serg's, Alys doubts that they would even be going through the motions of having the celebration. If Serg had ascended, they would have been in the throes of civil war by the end of the year. 

Kareen's plan for avoiding it, had Serg lived to ascend, had revolved around somehow arranging his untimely death, probably with a judicious use of force and energy weapons. Finding a suitable regent had been more difficult. Their discussions had been full of If Onlys.

If only Aral hadn't been disgraced after Komarr. 

If only Count Vorinnis had the lineage.

If only Padma had a Staff officer's rank.

Their discusses had eventually stalled on Vidal Vordarian or Piotr Vorkosigan and Alys had agreed with Kareen back then, that if it came to that choice, Vordarian would probably be the better political choice. After all, he had the direct lineage that Uncle Patrick didn't have, and Count Vorkosigan only had through his dead wife. And Vordarian's District was one of the richest on the planet and was vital to Barrayar's economy, while the Vorkosigans have never recovered from the loss of their capital. Kareen had had some thoughts on how to unite Vordarian and Vorkosigan to pull a government together and buy her son's safety with those two strong men balancing each other out, both making sure the other didn't steal power outright.

And then they had been blessed with that disaster known as Escobar, with those uncountable deaths, with the joy amidst the tragedy. And with Aral's star ascendant again.

The news had spread like wildfire. Padma had called her directly from HQ, telling her about Serg and Ges in one breath and about Rulf and the rest of the disaster in another, and _Timmy's safe, he wasn't near the front_ only as an afterthought. An uncountable number of relatives had found their way to comconsoles under sometimes very strange circumstances to pass the news along, that _the Prince is dead_. The defeat at Escobar was almost a footnote to that. Countless friends and relatives were dead, and they would be mourned, but it was entirely overshadowed by the pure relief of Serg and Ges's deaths.

Alys had never attended so many official mourning gatherings where she was certain that more than half the room was giddily grateful. It had felt strangely like a betrayal, some stubborn loyalty to the Imperium that didn't care how monstrous the Prince had been, but Alys was as relieved as the rest of them.

Kareen had thrown herself immediately into her official mourning, drawing it around her like a cloak, and had broken it only when it had come to stand on Alys's wedding circle. Timmy had escorted her, perfectly properly, and Julia's stepped forward since then, being the family's 

 

Julia's been

 

The week before Gregor's birthday, Alys drops by Vorkosigan House to see Cordelia

 

On Gregor's birthday, Julia brings her girls over to play with Gregor during the day, and they sit with Kareen 

 

Arina Vorhalas. "related through the Vorinnis" . how people are related through the Vorinnises. Petya and Arina are related through the Vorinnises. This mgith make them third cousins, have to see where could shove

 

"Countess Vorinnis was our baba. Padma's my second cousin. I've known him all my life."

 

 

Two days before the Emperor's birthday, Padma goes very grim and comes to her after pacing in the library for hours and goes down on one knee and hands her the enameled box containing his grandmother's wedding jewelry and says, "we're going to make a statement."

She'd worn it all at her wedding, along with a bracelet that Kareen had worn at hers, and Petya had contributed with some of what he'd had in trust from Xav's will, with the result that Alys had felt like she was sinking beneath the weight of family and jewels when she and Padma had made oaths to each other.

"I spoke to Aral," Padma continues, "and he'll speak to Lady Vorkosigan. He's putting aside his mother's wedding jewelry and what he got from Gran'ma. She'll wear of it what she pleases and I hope it's enough to be noticed. We're claiming this Regency. We're claiming _Gregor_."

Alys draws Padma to his feet and rubs her fingers against the knot of scar tissue just beneath his sleeve. "I'll speak to Kareen about the Imperial jewels, but she's still in her mourning for Serg."

"I know. But so long as it's enough of it." Padma is almost shaking. "Count Vordarian is intent, but he's being so damn careful about it. It's not enough to take to the Counts, not yet, and I hope we can stop it before he can start anything. If we can pull out his fangs quickly enough."

"Shh," Alys says, and kisses him briefly. He holds on to her like she'll vanish if he lets go. "I would be honored, Padma. And I'll have a word with Lady Vorkosigan, brief her on what the plan is." Cordelia is shockingly ignorant of Barrayar, even for a galactic, but she learns quickly. And she can hide behind that Betan bluntness if necessary. She killed Ges Vorrutyer, and for that, they all owe her a great debt.

"I refuse to fail," Padma says. "I _refuse_ to fail." He sucks in a deep breath. "I wish you would reconsider, my lady. If war became inevitable--"

"I won't," Alys cuts him off, like she has for years. "I'm not your mother, Padma, and you're not your father. History repeats, but not like this."

"My father _failed_. Utterly and completely," Padma says. "He tried to save my mother's life and they both died. He didn't even succeed in saving _me_ , except for maybe buying time, distracting the ones who were after me. I refuse to fail like he did. I don't even have a loyal Vorbarra armsman around to grab my son and run."

There's nothing to be done for Padma when he's in one of these moods, except to wait for him to force himself back to cheerfulness. Alys draws him down onto one of the couches and takes his hands in hers. "Lady Vorkosigan has been telling me how things are on Beta Colony," she says. "Did your grandmother ever talk to you about uterine replicators?"

Padma looks a little startled by the change of topic. "Not that I recall... those are the mechanical wombs, right?"

"Yes," Alys says. "She mentioned that ImpMil has some now. Spoils of war, apparently. I was thinking that perhaps we could use them for Ivan's siblings."

"As-- as a way of dealing with my paranoia, or as an easier way for you?" Padma asks. "If it would make you feel more comfortable, my lady, I would be happy to discuss it." He pauses. "I've been remiss, I think. Have you been feeling, um, like Kareen was saying she did near the end?"

Half of Kareen's pain was terror over Serg, but that's not a topic Alys wants to discuss right now. "I feel well enough," Alys says. "I promise to keep you updated on every change."

"At great volume and as rudely as necessary, I hope," Padma says seriously. He sighs. "We should have waited."

"Until when?" Alys asks. "Until a year into the Regency, until ten years, until Gregor is of age? We don't know the future, Padma. We can't. This is the choice we've made, and I hope you're not regretting it."

"Regretting you? Never," Padma says. "Regretting the political situation? That's growing constant. I could strangle Vordarian myself for stirring things up, except that he's not the only one. He's just the most insidious, with the best claim of all the would-be vultures."

"I knew when I married you," Alys tells him, "where I would be putting myself and my children. Don't you dare tell me you regret any second of that."

"I'm not, I wouldn't," Padma says quickly. "You chose this, I know, and don't think I'm not grateful and overwhelmed by that. You're the truest of true Vor, Alys. I wish I could have given you safety with my betrothal gifts. This is my failing, not yours. You don't lack courage or strength or political savvy. If anything, I lack resolve."

"You don't lack anything of the sort," Alys retorts. "And I won't tell you that you're taking Vordarian's threat too seriously, because I know how he was sniffing around Kareen and how hard it's been for her to get him to understand that she is serious when she says that she believes Aral is the best choice for Regent. We have to remove this threat before it can spiral out of control. But I will not take it as an excuse to run and hide."

"I wish you would," Padma says quietly. "But I know that it's only my fears speaking, not anything rational. And there won't be safety, not if Vordarian is intent to draw this into all-out war over Gregor. Which he would lose and he has to know it. Even if he could draw Kareen to his side, and I know that he couldn't, most of the Counts are behind Aral as well as most of the military. And the parts of the military that might flinch away from Aral are loyal to your uncle and to Tim. Even if Vordarian _could_ pull Count Vorinnis away from Aral, he wouldn't have the forces to keep it up for more than a couple months at most. He can't win this outright. He has to know that. If he's really planning something and not just stirring up sedition, he has to know that a coup would be doomed to failure unless he could kill Aral, me, and Petya. And Ivan."

"And my uncle and Tim and all his brothers, who would demand to stand before him, between all those graves and Gregor," Alys says. "They would refuse to allow anyone with that much blood on his hands to become Gregor's Regent."

"They could be forced to," Padma says. "If Vordarian could hold Kareen. And you." Padma smiles a fleeting, bitter smile. "But it would still be short. No two years of war for Vordarian. It'll be over by Winterfair. Unless Uncle Piotr fell back to the mountains with Gregor. Then we could be at this forever. He's maintained those caches. I know where a few of them are. Aral knows where others are, so does Petya, and a handful of his guerillas, a few others. But I think Uncle Piotr is the only one who knows where they all are."

"If Gregor disappeared, Vordarian would declare himself Emperor." And probably a few others would, too, if only to prevent Vordarian from ascending. And Padma might have to be among their number, which features heavily in Alys's nightmares. "Gregor's more expendable than you and Aral tend to think," she cautions.

"We have to," Padma says bluntly. "If we don't put Gregor at our head and keep him there, it's Xav's grandsons stealing the throne/conspiring to steal the throne. And we refuse to do that. And, forgive me, my lady, but if Gregor dies on Aral's watch, we lose the Vorinnises."

Alys grimaces. "Well, not all of us, I'd trust. But if it looks like Aral had anything to do with it, you're right."

"He's a dear boy," Padma says. "And I love him dearly, and all the more because he's Kareen's son. But he's also Serg's son, and I can't forget that he's the Emperor. And be thankful every day that Gregor is the Emperor and not Serg. But everyone who's plotting coups thinks of him as the Emperor, not Gregor, and I have to, too, to be able to fight them. And for us, he has to be vital, because he is. If we remove the Emperor, we remove the requirement for the Regency, and it all falls apart like cards. Aral isn't Lord Regent, merely Admiral Vorkosigan, hero of Komarr and Escobar. I'm not a member of the Regent's Staff, I'm Captain Vorpatril, grandson of Xav. And Kareen... Kareen becomes the only way anyone can claim that last, legitimate link to Serg and to Ezar."

"Petya's not married," Alys says, seeing where this is heading. "And of age."

"And the exact, perfect age to be someone's puppet. Thank you, Lady Vorkosigan, for Ges's death, because Ges would love this opportunity. Say it's not Vordarian with his claim. Say it's someone else, someone without a close claim. Aral and I would be the first casualties, Aral for holding the military and his death pulling them into chaos, for me for my lineage. And then there's Petya. Whoever would seize power would marry him off quickly to Kareen, close the bloodline, establish some legitimacy, and then set himself up as Prime Minister, or perhaps something much more sinister. Petya might live just long enough to see a son born. I would hope he could break out of any trap like that, but he's untried."

Padma clenches and unclenches his teeth/jaw. "Petya has some ImpSec training, but that's more a danger to him right now than anyone else. And he could steal the throne for himself, but he couldn't keep it; he doesn't have anywhere near the support he'd need for it. Even Uncle Piotr supporting his claim would only go so far, because Petya's a Vorkosigan heir, so Uncle Piotr putting him on the throne would be extremely suspect and almost no one would stand with him, not with that kind of outright power grab. Petya's only hope of survival would to be someone's figurehead and then try to wrestle control of the situation from the puppet master before the inevitable assassination. And this is the kind of political situation that I would bring my son into."

"Our son," Alys tells him, with steel in her voice. "You want Vorinnis support, Padma? There's Vorinnis support. You have to plan for all scenarios, right? Here's a scenario to plan for: Vordarian sees that his bluff is called and backs down. Or, better yet, overshows his hand. Aral brings him up on charges before the Counts and the Counts, seeing that they can buy a few years of peace with Vordarian's death, execute him. Ivan grows up with Gregor and little Pierre Vorkosigan and you'll stand on his wedding circle and I promise I'll kiss you under fireworks the night of our first grandchild's birth. Set the date and hold me to it."

Padma inhales sharply. "I will, my lady," he promises. 

 

He closes her hands around the jewelry box. "I spoke with Aral. I have written orders, even. I convinced him of that, at least."

"Did he need convincing of the threat?" Alys asks. "Aral?"

Padma smiles in wry acknowledgement. "You know him. He's the Great Admiral who managed to be outmaneuvered by-- well, let's just say someone high up in Political Education and not besmirch the reputation of the dead by putting the blame at Ges's feet. Although I'd love to. Aral's looking galactically, looking at Komarr. He can't see his nose on his face. And under any other circumstance, he'd have a wife around to hit him over the head with the domestic situation, but Lady Vorkosigan is more in the mold of my grandmother. Point her at the galactics and you'll win wars. It'll be some years before Xav's grandson can point his bride at his home enemies without hours and hours of briefings first."

"In some things," Alys says delicately, "she is a very quick study."

"Anything martial, I'd expect," Padma says. "Betan soldiers might be the laughing stock of the galaxy when it comes to military discipline, but they're still soldiers. Aral said something about Lady Vorkosigan being a scientist, so I wonder if we'll see a new focus on reliable alternatives to fast-penta-- if anyone has come up with something reliable, it's the Betans."

"And in other things," Alys continues, "not related to interrogations--"

"Yes, my lady," Padma murmurs, very nearly shocked out of his memories into laughter. 

Alys counts that as a victory. "It's quite a cultural shock for her. I wouldn't expect her to lecture Aral about Barrayaran politics yet. We're spending enough time as it is trying to get her acquainted enough with society to act as Aral's hostess without mortally insulting everyone." Alys frowns. "We have of late been discussing bastardry. From what I can tell, Beta has no concept of it at all. The closest we can come to a mutual understanding of the concept is in discussing their legal status of unlicensed additional children, and even then, all the Betans have to do is pay a fine. I've done my part," she continues darkly. "It's for Aral to explain to her why it's a mortal insult here and that they still kill babies for it in the backcountry."

"And nearly in Hassadar, if that's not being redundant," Padma says. "I'll talk to Petya, let him know not to let it break his heart if Lady Vorkosigan decides to broach the topic with him."

"I think I've sufficiently warned her enough for _that_ ," Alys says. "I imagine some wit decided to plant the whisper in her ear in hopes that she would be publicly shocked and horrified that Aral had legitimized a Vorrutyer bastard. It seems naive at best to assume a Betan would understand all the history behind that charge, or would care, but I think I've gotten Cordelia to accept the fact that, when people call her husband's son a bastard, they aren't speaking of his character."

"General Vorkosigan and all his history stood in front of the Counts and claimed him as a Vorkosigan. That should have been enough for anyone." Padma cuts himself off, swearing quietly. "I'm sorry, Alys. Serg is breathing down my neck tonight."

Alys reaches out carefully and covers Padma's hand with hers. "I think your scars are healing well, but I'm not Tim."

"Tim says the same," Padma says, and gulps a few more deep breaths, slowly managing his way back to calm. "There are some treatments they can do later, Tim says. Apparently it's completely outside his expertise, so I like it already. ImpMil can get rid of the scars over a few months. It would mean," Padma inhales and exhales carefully, "allowing more people to see. But I think I could manage that, if it meant I would no longer have to look at them every day of my life or force anyone else to."

"I don't mind them," Alys says. "And they aren't signs of dishonor, Padma."

"He wasn't interested in talking," Padma says bitterly. "The fast-penta was just for _amusement_. I doubt Serg gave a damn about the answers."

"You weren't dishonored," Alys repeats. "I don't see them as signs of shame, Padma. They're your survival."

Padma looks at her like he's actually seeing her. His mouth quirks up into an ironic smile. "Are you telling me I didn't fail, my lady?"

"I'm not going to tell you to come back with your shield or on it," Alys says. "Nor with your honor or without it, as if it were all the same to me. There's room between them, endless room. Serg forced your confession and gave you whatever he pleased and you survived it. You survived a mad Vorbarra royal. That's your triumph. Live in it," she orders.

Padma raises her hand to his lips and kisses it. "I love you, my lady. Beyond all honor and all reason. I would happily be dishonored to buy your life."

 

[maybe do this conversation as Padma, and Alys, and Kareen? Or maybe Julia Vorinnis. Or actually have it be Alys and Julia Vorinnis, and then later pull in Padma, or something like that]

 

"My written orders for the Birthday Ball," Padma says. "There's some information for you as well."

Alys takes them from him and looks through him. They're in Aral's handwriting, so presumably Padma's supposed to destroy them after reading. Padma is ordered to drag a few of Vordarian's cronies to the side and ply them with alcohol and visions of prosperity and future favors, if they just decide to side with their right and proper Emperor and their right and proper Regent. There's a list of names, mostly disaffected second sons, probably to maximize Padma's time with them. Padma can work them over while their older brothers and fathers are waiting on the Emperor and the tax ceremony.

And then there's a postscript, asking Padma to ask Alys to work some magic on Countess Vortugalov. Count Vortugalov and Padma's father never got along and the feud passed on to Padma, and so Count Vortugalov hates his guts, too. _We have no leverage to speak of over him,_ Aral wrote, _except to try to remind him/his Countess of Yuri's war and what everyone lost. It's barely any leverage at all. Perhaps Alys can come up with something better for the Countess? If we can pull him away from Vordarian, it will be a major triumph, and a necessary one._

The rest of the orders go on in that vein, and Alys flips through them. Not all of Vordarian's key agitators will be in attendance, but enough of them will be that Aral's focusing his forces on trying to bring down the conspiracy in parts, so that if they can't pull it all down, at least they can weaken Vordarian.

"What do you think? Can you bring Countess Vortugalov around?"

"I'll do my best," she says.

"Aral hopes that we can end Vordarian's little whisper campaign in one night, if we can just exert enough pressure on his supporters. Aral thinks this is just talk, nothing too violent. He thinks it's Vordarian banging on the door, trying to see if he can knock it down, but nothing more. He thinks Vordarian is testing the limits of the Regency. He doesn't think he's serious enough for treason. Not yet, and if we can pull enough of Vordarian's support out from under him, then not ever. Aral thinks we can push Vordarian in line if we hit him hard enough."

Alys thins her lips. "Does he."

Padma grumbles a few choice words about ship blindness. Then, louder, "I don't know what Aral's excuse is, it's not like he was never a Headquarters Admiral before. He knows better than this. But Negri and Illyan are talking to him about Cetagandan threats, and that's all well and good, but it's consumed him. The Cetagandans are the attractive enemy; it's so easy to want it to be them. Brushing away that Vordarian is just talking... Aral's being an idiot and I told him that. I said the reason Domestic Affairs is being silent is because Colonel Vorfolse is married to Vordarian's sister. Negri's looking into it, but they're still constantly talking about another war with Cetaganda and they're readying the fleet for it. Aral's spent too much damn time away with his ships. That star-kissed idiot has forgotten how civil wars start."

"That's why he has advisors," Alys says, "to watch his back and his blind spots. If he's not listening to you--"

"He's listening, but he's discounting the threat. He thinks the Cetagandans are more likely. I said, the Cetagandans didn't show up when we were fighting off Yuri. He said that was because they were distracted by a different frontier. We had a huge argument about it. He told me that I wasn't thinking galactically and that I needed to remember that we have Komarr now. I told him he was being an idiot domestically. How many more times does Vordarian have to blatantly try to court Kareen before Aral realizes this is a serious problem? Does he really think the Cetagandans would _miss_?"

"If it's Cetaganda, it won't hit Petya and Cordelia," Alys notes. "Cordelia can remain on planet and Petya's going into diplomacy anyway. He won't see the front lines unless he's there to negotiate a cease-fire. I can see why Aral wants the threat to be far away."

"I don't want it to be Vordarian either," Padma says. "But that doesn't mean I'm ignoring the way he publicly reacted to Aral being named Lord Regent. Or how he's been acting since. Or what he's trying with Kareen. Vordarian is a party leader and has a lot of support and his District is vital to Barrayar's future and he knows it. We're still on the heels of Escobar and Ezar's death. Maybe Aral thinks Vordarian doesn't have the daring to try for it, but if does, he's seriously discounting that man's ambition."

"He's not known as a strategist," Alys says. "If he had Admiral Kanzian on his side, or one of the Headquarters hotshots on his side, that would be different, but they're all loyal to the Vorkosigans."

"Uncle Piotr trained half of them," Padma agrees. "But you don't need to be a great strategist to beat Aral in this situation/venue[]. Just have enough firepower. If he could get _that_... but he probably can't, and he has to know that. So what game is he playing? A quick coup, it has to be, but he needs Kareen as an accomplice for that, and he's not getting that. He needs Kareen, he needs Gregor, and he needs a very strategic body count. All the Vorkosigans, for preference. Does Vordarian really think he can do this? He has to know he couldn't strategize his way out of the Great Square, let alone into the Residence."

"Ambition can make men blind," Alys says. "And it often does. Do you really need examples, dear?"

"I need Vordarian to show himself as a traitor." Padma gestures sharply downward, miming a killing stroke. "Get him out of the way and _then_ Aral can spend his time and attentions on making sure the Cetagandans don't use this opportunity to try to invade again. I'm not saying he's wrong--"

"You were, actually," Alys points out.

"Wrapping himself in misjudgment and wishful thinking, rather. Not wrong. Or maybe premature. The Cetagandans are always a threat. I just disagree with my oath-sworn commander and liege lord about the level of the threat," Padma stresses.

Alys starts, horrified, "Is anyone--"

"No, no, never," Padma says quickly, and gives her a troubled smile. "No one would dare ever insinuate anything like that to Aral. And he would never-- it's only that he _is_ the Lord Regent. Certain people have mentioned to me that it would be appropriate if I remembered that occasionally. But it's nothing like-- no one's suggesting anything like they did to Serg."

"I haven't heard any whispers," Alys says. "But my sources might not tell me if it were something like that."

"Ask around," Padma says[requests]. "Or... however it is you gather intelligence. I'd like to know. If Vordarian is spreading things around about my loyalty -- if _anyone_ is -- then that's information I need to have. It's not like ImpSec reports to me."

 

\---

 

Alys spends the morning of the Emperor's Birthday at the Residence, playing with Gregor and conferring with Kareen. She returns home with enough time for prepare for the ball, to find Padma napping on their bed.

She stands in the doorway and raps her knuckles on the doorframe, two then one then two. Padma pulls his arm out from beneath the blankets and the dagger he keeps there, and opens his eyes.

 

Count Vordarian is announced with all due ceremony and Alys turns partially to watch him enter. She can feel Padma stiffen beside her and Alys can barely keep back her own low curse. Vordarian's wearing full parade dress.

"What game is he playing?" Padma grumbles next to her, and drowns the rest of it in a sip of his wine.

"Well, dear, if he's going to rival the Lord Regent, he may as well claim all military rank he can," Alys says, softly and in a tone to make any close listeners think she's murmuring nothing of any importance to her husband.

"I feel a terrible urge to remind him it's the Emperor's Birthday," Padma says. "He may be a serving officer -- if you could call it serving what he does in Ops, and I wouldn't, and Ezar should have thrown him out with the rest of the trash -- but he's here as a Count in obedience. Aral could actually arrest him for this, if he wanted to. It's a complete violation."

"Mm, yes, but he won't. Vordarian would probably love it if he did. Make Aral show his hand too early and then Vordarian could play this to the hilt later, cry foul to all the Counts."

 

Padma squeezes her hand when he notices one of his targets enter the room. He makes his excuses quickly and grabs two glasses of wine off a passing tray to help him ambush his quarry.

Alys silently wishes him luck.

From across the room, Petya tracks Padma and then gives Alys a solemn smile and salutes his step-mother with his glass before returning to his urgent conversation with one of the junior Vortalas also in cadet dress.

"Shouldn't he be at school?" Cordelia asks. "I know Aral said that this is the most important social event of the year, but Petya's a little young for this."

Alys wonders if Aral briefs his soldiers as poorly. She rather doubts it. "Petya's been a player[wc] in the social scene for years already. And as an heir in the Vorkosigan Countship line and the Lord Regent's son, his attendance tonight is required."

"Aral said," Cordelia says doubtfully, "that the Commandant of the Academy had asked him to keep Petya in school more or else he'd never graduate."

"There are a lot of required social duties," Alys allows, "but it should slow down," or they'll be in a war and the entire point will be moot, "and Petya's far from the only cadet here tonight. But Aral's right to put him to this use. Don't underestimate his support. Petya's the greatest ally you can have."

Cordelia stares at her, looking very concerned. "How?"

"Because a brother could supplant him," Alys explains. She's only known Cordelia a matter of months but already she's given up on the notion that Betans know a thing about politics or war. If Cordelia's any indication, even their soldiers are scientist pacifists. It's unsettling to think of a world like that. "Even though he's not a bastard, there's an insistent undercurrent that says he is. It's never come to a head because there's no other candidate for heir. But if Aral had another son, there could be a lot of pressure exerted to have Aral disinherit Petya in favor of a son who didn't have any taint of illegitimacy."

Cordelia looks incensed on Petya's behalf. "People really do that? Play games with inheritances?"

"Some do," Alys says. "Petya's public support, however, announces to anyone looking that Petya isn't at all concerned and doesn't see a brother as a threat. That's extremely important." She wonders about overstressing the point, but Cordelia just doesn't have the political or social background. And this is something she needs to know as Regent-Consort. She needs to know how the game is played and how to win it. "Petya knows what he's doing. He knows the effect what he says and what he does has on the Regency and on the perceived strength of the Vorkosigan Countship."

"So what kind of game is he playing tonight?" Cordelia asks.

"I don't know what orders Aral has given him," Alys says, "although I would assume it's a list of Count's daughters and granddaughters to dance with, just to keep a whisper open that the Vorkosigans are willing to play that game, if the reward is great enough. But Petya's usual tactics are what you'd imagine for a cadet his age. He presents himself to the Counts like the obedient, perfect son that most of them don't have: he's near the top of his class, very polite, very formal, very proper. Everyone knows his grandfather dotes on him and everyone knows that Count Vorkosigan is very hard to please. Petya charms the Counts easily, but he's still not sure what he's doing with the Countesses. With the older ones, he plays up the orphan card. He mostly avoids the younger ones, and I can't entirely fault him for it, because a lot of Counts would be eager to shout that he's flirting with them, and Petya hasn't found his footing yet with them. He's rather good with his classmates and the ensigns, but he runs into problems with higher ranked officers because he's still a cadet, although a Vorkosigan. It's just a [conflict] between social and military roles. Watch Padma if you want to see what Petya will be doing once he gains some military rank to correspond to his social rank."

Cordelia glances down to where Padma has just slipped away to one of the receiving rooms with his quarry. "Hm."

"Playing heavier political games," Alys elaborates, "mostly among serving officers. They're officially discouraged from playing politics, but that, as you might imagine, has little bearing on reality."

"And your political game tonight?" Cordelia fingers her bracelets. "Ours?"

"We're in support of Kareen," Alys says. "The same way Padma and Petya are in support of Aral. Very separate spheres tonight. The old men think their game is the only one that matters, and Count Vorkosigan goes to war on nights like this like his is the only battle on the dance floor. Our game is much more subtle, but equally, much more important."

"Yes, you said before about match-making," Cordelia says.

"Yes, tonight and Winterfair," Alys says. "Tonight, on the Emperor's Birthday, the focus is much more on perpetuating Countship lines because it's the annual renewing of the forms of the Vor, and so the Countesses hold court and control the flow of the room. Winterfair's much more martial; the Academy is on break, so every cadet who can beg an invitation is here and there's a desperate rush for socially-advantageous marriages among the cadets and the younger officers assigned to the capital. From the Academy's Ball, which falls within/is among the first few events of the season, until Winterfair night, it's mayhem. And then everyone fights over wedding dates, which keeps us all busy for the rest of the winter."

"Is that how you met Captain Vorpatril?" Cordelia asks. "At a social ball?"

"No, we had been in each other's social circles for years, and we have first cousins in common," Alys says. She contemplates stressing again just how important Padma and Aral's descent from Xav is in the social and political scenes. It's to Cordelia's immense credit that she didn't choose to marry Aral for political gain, but there's loving him for himself and then there's not wanting to realize just who she married. Only Aral, Alys thinks, would find a way to marry a woman who has no idea who he is when he's at home. "Padma has been a mainstay of Vorbarr Sultana society since he was very young."

"This seems so strange," Cordelia says, shaking her head. "Entire social structures focused entirely on marrying off as many young people as quickly as possible."

"And as advantageously as possible," Alys adds. "I don't think I would like your Beta Colony. It sounds like you're all stumbling over each other in the dark and everything waits on two nervous young people who don't know how to talk to each other."

"Not always two," Cordelia says wistfully. Then she catches herself. "That's one of those things you don't want me saying in public, right?"

"Yes," Alys sighs.

"What can I expect for Winterfair?" Cordelia asks. "Can balls even be martial? If anyone can do it, I guess you could."

"The Winterfair Ball is only informally military," Alys says. "Nothing like Midsummer where it follows on the heels on the Midsummer Review. The Midsummer Review has implications of mustering the troops for battle. The Emperor's Birthday Review is to make a public show of the fealty and loyalty of the army to the Emperor, and then we come here," Alys looks towards the chamber where Gregor and Kareen sit, and Cordelia follows her gaze, "and then the Counts offer the same public show in the renewal of their oaths."

 

"While we're at it," Aunt Gabrielle is saying, "we may as well have Timmy put on his medic patch and send him to staff a field hospital. He's certainly _certified_ for it, but..."

Julia and the rest of Aunt Gabrielle's crowd nod. Alys says mildly, "Padma was very thankful for Timmy's expertise."

Aunt Gabrielle waves her left hand in acknowledgment, then says, "Ah, Lady Vorkosigan. How are you finding tonight?"

"Countess Vorinnis," Cordelia says, and Alys takes the moment to abandon Cordelia among friendly company to pull Arina Vorhalas to the side.

Arina passes on her latest intelligence in an undertone. Alys murmurs back a reply and then pulls Julia away and pairs her with Arina with a smile.

Petya's approaching with his junior Vortala, their heads bent together. Alys raises an eyebrow at him when Petya looks up and Petya signals _introduction_ with his wine glass. Alys nods.

 

"My lady," Vortala says, with an elaborate bow. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am Alexei Vortala. The younger," he says with a particular emphasis. "Don't listen to that particular slander that I am The Short, or The Baby."

Cordelia covers a smile. "I see. And is The Elder here as well?"

"Over there," Vortala says, pointing to another Vortala in cadet uniform. "We are easily distinguishable, because I am dashing and handsome, and he is not."

"Where's the third one of you?" Aunt Gabrielle asks.

"Alas, The Other One was delayed in the District, because he will soon graduate to being Alexei The Father," Vortala says brightly. "The Lord Regent gave him leave to attend. That's a good omen, don't you think, my lady Countess? A new baby on the new Emperor's birthday."

 

"Is that common?" Cordelia asks.

"Not uncommon, but not prevalent enough to be common," Alys says. "Usually the name goes to either the firstborn son's firstborn, or to the oldest grandson, no matter the father's birth order. The Vortalas were somewhat overenthusiastic. Old General Alexei was an Imperial Auditor and he had six sons, so I suppose we should feel grateful there aren't six Alexei Vortalas that we have to keep track of."

"I can't keep track of the ones we do have," Julia admits, scanning the room subtly. "The oldest married one of the Vorvaynes. The other two might as well be clones, especially in uniform. Eventually one of them will be promoted first and then we can start using rank tabs to tell them apart."

 

"If this were some remote story," Laisa says, "this would all seem so simple. Everything would be clean and straight-forward, like old Earth history. All the wars are over, the battles are settled and buried. All those mythologies... your propagandists did a good job with Komarran childhood education," Laisa allows. "Attractive and seductive, therefore effective."

"They tried," Arthur sighs. "A little too much, I thought. Full-frontal Vorish attack. It's like they'd learned nothing of strategy or tactics. They went a little too far with the storybook. The Vor lord on the horse, Vlad marrying a widow for love, Dorca's grand unification. We somehow failed to mention that the Vor lord on the horse was, archetypally, an illiterate marauding idiot, Vlad rewrote the law so that he could marry her without having to have any responsibilities towards her previous children and didn't care about the consequences, and Dorca's unification wouldn't have succeeded if the Cetagandans hadn't invaded and _really_ united the Vor against a common external enemy. We're practically in Petya's Ministry, when it comes to things we forgot to mention."

"You came off as very quaint and old-fashioned in the texts," Laisa says. "And the Revolt was mostly over by the time I was five, so I know what I got at school was what you had settled on for integration. By the time I was fifteen, you'd taken to flattering us. Called us the best mixture of natives and galactics, called us advanced, loosened trade restrictions."

When Laisa was fifteen, Gregor was fighting to discover if he had actual power, and Komarran policy was still being set by Aral.

 

Change this to Cordelia/alys

 

Laisa has that look that Arthur's seen on prole cadets all the time, the one that means they think that Simon Illyan is going to walk through the door and arrest everyone in the room because Arthur just said that the Cetagandan invasion was the only reason that Dorca's Unification actually worked, or that if the Pretendership proved anything, it was that having half of the General Staff, and most of the Admirals of the Fleet, be proles meant that civil wars couldn't last too long or they'd turn into prole revolts. The Pretendership lasted a matter of months; Arthur, personally, would have given it until spring to turn into the mostly-prole Fleet versus the Vor-heavy infantry. The Fleet may not have won, but General Vorkosigan was born in Vorkosigan Vashnoi and had been among the first Vor generals to give a field commission to a prole. He might have understood the necessity of dealing. He might have understood that the problem of his earlier revolt was that he hadn't gone far enough.


	17. Petya and Cordelia in ACC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dear god, what is this _thing_ ," Lanna whimpers, while also partially grateful that five years ago, she at least sometimes had useful file names. This is meant to be interactions between Petya and Cordelia after Miles's dinner party in ACC. 
> 
> This probably got abandoned because writing Cordelia is hard. I think I might have scavenged some of this for something that actually got posted? Anyway, Petya is not on Dono's side because of any good feelings towards Dono, he's doing it because he hates Richars. Petya Vorkosigan: doing the right thing for ~~the wrong~~ selfish reasons.

Title:  
Summary: 

 

The third person Petya sees is Cordelia.

 

"Welcome home," Petya says. "I'm sorry, you've surprised me. I must've lost track of the dates. How was the trip?"

 

"I'm just back from the Betan embassy," Petya says. "I get to have dinner in all the major embassies, welcoming their delegations to Gregor's wedding. This was _supposed_ to be all nice and civil and polite, until one of my cousins decided to cause a minor diplomatic nightmare--"

"Lord Dono, perhaps?" Cordelia asks.

"Oh, you've heard?" Petya says. "Yes, her." At Cordelia's look, he colors slightly and says quickly, "him. Sorry, milady, it's still new to me, I only found out yesterday; Gregor called me to inform me personally. In my cousin's wisdom, he decided to warn the clinic that the Barrayarans will be very interested in his visit and to make a long story short, a promising Galactic Affairs covert agent's career is ruined and Beta's angry at us for breaching medical privacy. We aren't confirming it, of course, but I foresee some minor concessions in our future." He hesitates. "If you have some spare dinners while you are here, though I doubt Alys is allowing it, if I could persuade you to call on the embassy and be Betan at them?"

 

"I just wish he'd done this before Pierre died. I don't know what was stopping him; we spent long enough going through the Vorrutyer family tree. If he was nurturing a desire for this, he could have done it last year. The Counts would have choked on confirmation, but that wouldn't necessarily have been required. Pierre could have named him his legal heir and made it clear that he intended to have him confirmed eventually, and then right now Dono would be a clear case of Count's choice and Count's blood. Shoving him through the Counts would be almost impossible, but not actually impossible. It would save us all from Count Richars."

"Do you support Dono's bid, then?"

"I would support Lord Midnight's corpse before I would vote for Richars," Petya says. "Although, right now, Miles holds the proxy, so he can use it as he wishes. Still, Miles is Betan enough that I would think he would support Dono just on principle."

 

"Your brother's courtship seems to be imploded tonight," Cordelia says.

Petya frowns. "That's a shame. She seemed a 

"What did you know about it?"

"Nothing much, you know how Miles is. He introduced us, nattered on to me about a garden, and that was it. I thought it was a little strange, though. I would have anticipating Miles falling in with a Betan hermaphrodirte before a Vor lady."

 

"A fight," Petya says wistfully. "It must be nice to be able to interact long enough to actually have time to _fight_. I look forward to the fights."

 

"I try to refrain from inquiring too heavily about Miles's love affairs in hopes [desperate hope] that he will return the favor."

Cordelia smiles at him friendly[]. "And how is General Allegre?"

Petya does not quite blush. "Gregor is a few weeks away from getting married. _Outdoors_. By providing stress relief, I am performing a vital and invaluable service to the Imperium."

"You might fool your father with that," Cordelia says. "Go ahead and think you're fooling me, if you like."

"I'm going to be kidnapping him to Vorkosigan Surleau as soon as the weddings are done," Petya says. "And then barring the doors against anyone following us."

"That's more believable," Cordelia says approvingly.

 

"Partly," Petya says. He looks to Cordelia, "Cordelia, do you have plans for tomorrow night? Beta Colony has registered a formal complaint, claiming that Barrayar violated interplanetary law and stole medical records. We aren't confirming that we did, and I will be having some words with the Galactic Affairs department in ImpSec -- they are supposed to avoid giving me headaches, not making them worse -- but if we have some invitations to an embassy dinner. If you could go and make pointed Betan remarks, it would be helpful. It won't solve the problem -- I foresee certain concessions in our future -- but my top Betan analyst has just defected to Sergyar." Petya grimaces. "Thank you so much for that, Da. Can I have Commodore Ferrety back? My birthday is coming up."

 

 

"It took me two years, but I finished the full District tour. The last parts were the longest, of course. I took a two months vacation fully from the Ministry, told them I couldn't be reached even in the outbreak of the probably inevitable eighth Escobaran-Tau Cetan war, and then rode off. I wish it were as easy to hand off a ministry as it is to hand off a Count's proxy, just register it with the Lord Guardian in advance and then bugger off for any length of time."

 

"I did see Mark briefly," Petya says. "I had lunch with him and some others in Hassadar. He surprised me by showing a real interest in the District and District internal matters. I might shove some of the financial and industrial issues off onto him, if he'll stay still on this planet long enough. Do you think he would appreciate that, or run screaming?"

"I suppose it depends on how you offer it," Cordelia says. "Don't give it to him as his responsibility as Vorkosigan to attend to District matters. He'll start twitching." After a moment's thought, she continues, "You should ask Kareen Koudelka. She knows more about handling Mark than I do."

"You're Betan," Petya says in apology. "You're always going to be my go-to expert on all matters psychological and clonish and Betan."

 

"The money we've been shoving into Seligrad is finally showing the kind of results that you can show off to your liege lord," Petya says. "New hospital, two new schools, new buildings on the college. It'll be a university within a decade, the chancellor promised me. The district military academy in Hassadar had me give a class on diplomacy and made sure to introduce me to their top students and then hinted _very strongly_ that if more scholarships to the Imperial Military Academy were available, these students should have gone there instead. I told them I would pass it on to the General Staff."

 

"I have a list of places that could stand to have a visit from Count Vorkosigan," Petya says. "As for Countess Vorkosigan," Petya nods to Cordelia, "the Hassadar medical school and hospital want to lobby you very, very much for more scholarships, and show off what they've accomplished since you left for Sergyar."

 

"I admit I was very worried about how they would accept Miles," Petya says. "I suppose I shouldn't have worried, he has them eating out of his hand just like the rest of us. They're very proud of their mutie lord being a Lord Auditor. I should congratulate him. It can't have been easy for him to get them around to using him as a mascot for progressivism instead of wanting kill him."


	18. Alys after the war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to keep this one going because of the LOLing at "yeah, _Petya_ gets to collapse and be a traumatized ball of trauma. I HAVE A BABY TO TAKE CARE OF, fuck you, Petya." But I didn't get the momentum going.
> 
> This one also runs into one of the problem I had with Alys and Cordelia stand alones in this verse: because I was trying to keep so close to canon, the only thing that really differentiated Petya fics from non-Petya fics is the existence of Petya in the universe. This caused some problems with focusing a fic.
> 
> Alys's sister Gabrielle also shows up in a Petya AU that never got written, where Petya marries her. (that's the one where Petya kills Serg because Ezar told him to.)

Title:  
Summary:

(Gabby or Gaby?)

 

Alys understands now what her mother meant when she would say _but that was after the war_. To divide her life so completely into two sections, not unmarried and married the way a proper Vor lady should, but _before_ and _after_.

This is _after_. This is watching her mother as she paces the floor, making faces at baby Ivan. This is Gabby, her law student sister, picking over Padma's will with her, saying, soothingly, "of course you discussed it all with him before, but let's look it over anyway." Gabby hasn't tried to make it sound like they're doing it for Gabby's benefit, not Alys's, at least. At least her family is giving her that much respect.

Julia, still pregnant with her and Timmy's third, is sitting very properly on the far couch, reading through the accumulated documents and every so often making a note to herself.

"It's a war will," Gabby's saying, "it's meant to be complicated enough to still hold up if half the people named in it are dead. But it's well-put-together."

"An Imperial lawyer did it," Alys says, dully. She is watching her mother pace, back and forth, back and forth. "Just tell me. Do I need to worry about Ivan?"

"Not unless Petya decides to make a really huge fuss about it," Gabby says. "Custody of all minor children goes to their mother, unless their mother can't, and then it goes to Petya. _And_ he has to adopt them and make the oldest boy his heir. That was smart of Padma."

No, it wasn't. It was a favor to Petya out of the kindness of his heart. Or so Padma had said. Last time Alys had seen Petya, he had looked over her left shoulder and stammered out condolences on her losses. That was a month ago and she hasn't seen him since. To hear Timmy and Arthur tell it, no one's seen Petya since, not to speak of. Timmy said, bluntly, that he isn't taking it well.

It must be nice, to be able to not take it well and disappear until that stops.

"And if Petya drops dead, it goes to Count Vorkosigan -- Count _Piotr Pierre-_ Vorkosigan, not whoever is the current Count Vorkosigan, and then to," Gabby traces down the list of names and reads them all out in a breath, "Da and Ma and then me and then Francine and then Timmy and K-Kareen and Arthur and then out to the second cousins for a while, and only then do we hit the Vorpatrils. Padma was really paranoid about his name-relatives, wasn't he? This whole thing is very careful not to give them ammunition for a coup."

Alys frowns.

Gabby covers her hand briefly and then offers her some of the documents. Alys ignores it. "Financially, you're fine. More than fine."

"I know," Alys nods. "Padma... we talked about it." They went over Padma's will in depth before and after the wedding, damn it. Why is it so hard, so painful to remember right now? She can't still be in shock. She refuses to still be in shock.

"You should get a real lawyer to look over this just to make sure it's as tight as it looks to me, and you're one of his heirs outright, not as an allowance for taking care of minor children. Although there is that, _too_. If Petya is going to be off-planet for any length of time, he's required to give the custodial guardian a certain level of control over what he's holding in trust for Ivan, so you'll be controlling that also. Petya's got/holding in trust for Ivan's majority," Gabby looks back and forth, "all real property[check that means real estate] that isn't named specifically as going to you in your name personally, all weapons, miscellaneous knickknacks, custody of anything that's named in Xav's will as going to Padma but not named in Padma's will... it goes on. The Lord Regent has final say over Padma's uniforms and decorations and medals, Count Vorpatril over anything that Padma has with the family seal, and here's a list if you'd like. Petya's also an heir, not merely a guardian of the will, and there's a list of that, too."


	19. Dono and Petya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petya continues not to like Richars...

Title:  
Summary: Dono and Petya talk

 

"Lord Dono Vorrutyer to see you, my lord," Pym announces.

 

"Miles isn't here right now," Petya says.

"I know," Dono says. "I'm here to see you. I want to ask for your support."

"If it's about the vote, you're here for Miles," Petya says. "Or my father, since he's on planet. Miles holds the proxy; I only take it back if he has some Auditorial emergency, and I'm not going to take it up when the Count is available to do it."

"Your personal support," Dono says. "But," he adds, "if it were your vote, would I have it? I know I don't have your approval, but would I have your vote?"

"I'd vote for a dead horse before I would vote for Richars," Petya says. "You know that, so you know that you would have my vote. As for my approval... why did you _wait_ so long?" he asks.

Dono blinks at him. "I beg your pardon?"

Petya scowls at him. "Two years, Dono. We spent two years going over that damn family tree and meanwhile, you were sitting there, contemplating legally becoming a man? You should have gone off to Beta _then_. Pierre would have laughed his head off and named you his legal heir, would have thought it a terrific revenge on Richars, and with Count's choice and Count's blood satisfied, we could have shoved you through the Counts now that Pierre is dead. They would have screamed, but you would have had choice and blood, while Richars only has a senior cousin's claim. There's enough precedent already: remember Count Gloria Vorpinski? But you had to wait and now it's highly unlikely that you'll manage this, and so we're going to be stuck with Count Richars for the rest of his unpleasant existence."

"You've caught me by surprise," Dono says after a long moment. "I thought you would try to string me up from the nearest ceiling. You can be quite like our shared grandfather at times."

"A dead horse," Petya says lowly, "instead of Richars. And you've been running the District for five years. Remember to hit the Counts over the head hard with that when lobbying them. You've been in the District, doing a Count's duty, acting as Count's deputy, for five years. And meanwhile, Richars has been playing clown games and getting drunk. You are much more suitable to be Count than Richars, for all that he was born a man."

Dono smiles faintly. "Thank you. I think. I've received worse compliments than being better than a dead horse."

"You know exactly what I meant," Petya says. "And if Lord Midnight could be confirmed by the Council of Counts, so can you. You'll have the progressive vote, at least."

"Some of them," Dono mutters.

"Most if not all," Petya says, "after my brother gets through with them. He's mostly Betan, your circumstances are right up his alley."

"Considering that I came here to ask you not to publicly condemn me or try to sabotage me," Dono says, "this seems strange that I'm asking, but I am. Would you lobby for me?"

"You can send people over to me," Petya says, "although I'm too much of another Vorrutyer degenerate for most of the conservatives to get along with in this matter. But if you think my endorsement/support will help, by all means. I have too much going on right now to go all over town begging votes for you, though, Dono. But I'll certainly put in a good worse for you and a bad word for Richars when I can. I don't know if that'll help. Everyone knows he and I don't get along."

 

"You've been public about supporting Rene Vorbretten," Dono says.

"Of course. Even without the [] my family has with the Vorbrettens, I would be publicly opposing it. Rene himself isn't a bastard -- if only that were the trouble -- and we cannot [allow / afford / neither allow nor afford] a precedent of digging through family histories to find bastards or other excuses to try to disinherit a ruling Count. And additionally, there is a clear case to be made that the process of confirming an heir _by its very nature_ legitimizes a bastard. The Vorbrettens have had a Count's heir continuously since the Time of Isolation, so I don't think even the entailment claims are valid; primogeniture has been satisfied because each Count had his heir confirmed and acknowledged that heir publicly as a son, and then the full Counts voted confirmation. I don't like this challenge at all.

"I find it hard to believe it's been allowed to get this far," Petya says. "That case is a mess of precedents that we do not need or want. I think Gregor's only letting it run because he's too distracted by this upcoming wedding to stamp it out. Even if my family didn't have that history with the Vorbrettens, I would still be opposed to overthrowing a ruling Count just because his grandfather was a bastard."

 

"Well, if it helps your suit, you're obviously more Vorrutyer than anyone since Pierre le Sanguinaire," Petya says. "Considering that the scale has always tended towards 'objectively attractive, notoriously mad.'"


	20. Imperial Wedding (Komarr 'verse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Guy is in the Imperial Residence, Petya is clinging like a wet limpet, and the Imperial Wedding is, like, tomorrow. Now what? Well, Guy gets put to work, while Petya hopes SO MUCH that means that Guy followed him home and he totally gets to keep him, right, y/n???

Title:  
Summary: Imperial wedding, Komarr verse.

 

Guy's only been here two days and he thinks he might already be addicted to it.

 

"The Count thinks deserters should be shot on sight, no exceptions."

 

\--

The Emperor's wedding is a nightmare. Guy's baseline for these things is, admittedly, completely different from those of everyone around him, but he doesn't think he's wrong.

Petya's very strained around the eyes, the way he gets when he's pushing himself too hard beyond where he should, because if he stops, he's going to not be able to be social for a while, and all the while, just making it worse. Guy knows this well from the inside, and he can recognize the signs of it in Petya, too.

By the end of the night, Petya is fading on his feet, and Guy holds his hand a little tighter than before, just enough of a squeeze to be a jolt to Petya, but not enough to hurt him. Just enough to remind him that Guy's still here.

Petya's in full House uniform, which is blinding and spectacular, and he's gained enough weight since ImpSec caught up to them that Petya doesn't look as haggard as he once did. Guy's wearing an expensive civilian suit that he can only guess at the expense from the whirlwind way he'd found himself in it.

 

Petya's staying in the Imperial Residence, for reasons he didn't explain and Guy hasn't gotten around to broaching the topic. Guy's been quartered there as well, and it feels like quartering. From afar, the Residence has a shine of serene perfection. From up close, it's barely controlled chaos. It feels like a military camp most of the time. Guy feels right at home.

He's been here all of two days, and he's already succumbed to the urge to gawk like a tourist and gotten over it just as quickly. Part of that is Petya, probably. Petya treats the Imperial Residence like Guy treats his cousins's houses. It's just that, Guy thinks ruefully, Petya has very different cousins than Guy does.

There's just so much that needs to be done. Guy had been stopped while on an errand for Lady Vorinnis by one of the Lord Chancellor's deputies and had come back to help after reporting back to her, and he only realized later how much time had passed when Petya had come looking for him after he was finished with his therapy for the day.

The Lord Chancellor said to Guy this morning, "if you're staying, come see me. We need anyone we can get."

And that's been the question, hasn't it? If he's staying.

When ImpSec had descended out of nowhere and without warning to take Guy to the Emperor, Guy's father had grabbed Guy by the arm and whispered in a desperate undertone, _be careful_. And Guy can't forget the fear in his eyes and everything Guy knows about ImpSec and how dangerous the capital is. They just had a war. Everyone knows this is dangerous.

But... there's more here than just one lonely Vor lord who wants someone who isn't dangerous, who wants someone who demonstrably would still like him even if Petya weren't Vor. There's so much more here.

There's the Emperor, who, it turns out, is a dangerous man who is never out of uniform, but is also someone who cares enough about his baby cousin, as he puts it, to baldly invite a scandal so soon after a war. 

There are the political undercurrents that Guy is just beginning to understand, there's the 

 

Guy thinks he could get used to this, this frenzied energy, the underlying panic, everyone rushing here and there, trying to create this . [When he'd mentioned this to Captain Naismith, she'd called it a constant act of creation.]  
The Imperial Household is a fascinating place; Guy wonders what it says about him that he finds dealing with five emergencies before breakfast to be comforting and soothing and a perfectly reasonable way of spending the morning.

And it's not as if anything going to stop just because the Emperor and the Empress have finally managed to pull off their wedding. There's the continuing process of dealing with the rebellious Districts, there's all the normal domestic problems that would be happening no matter who the Emperor is, and then there's the upcoming Komarran delegation.

Guy's only been here two days and he thinks that he might already be addicted to it.

He says that to Petya on the way back to Petya's quarters here, and Petya looks at him with a look of pure hope on his face that Guy feels almost guilty about it.

"You're-- you're staying, then? Are you staying?" Petya asks quickly, and his free hand comes around from skipping across the wall to join his other hand on Guy's palm. "We-- I haven't-- please, Guy. Please stay."


	21. The birth of the Imperial heir (Escobar AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I try to decide what Gregor names his son. (In which 2016!Lanna grumbles even more about all she really needs in this life are names for Gregor's kids... and Aral's first wife... and Aral's siblings...)

Title: Of Barrayaran Mathematics And Imperial Succession  
Summary: What follows, from what is given.

 

It is the strange reality of Vorbarr Sultana that the announcement of the impending birth of an Imperial heir means they have to shut down the history department of the largest university on the planet for three days while Illyan and twelve platoons go through it thoroughly for any shred of evidence that someone is about to try to put the Prime Minister on the throne.

"You're the one who spoke passionately about academic freedom," the Emperor points out to his Prime Minister, and then smiles winningly at him when Petya glares. "I'm going to be a father. I can tease you today without consequence." 

"That much academic freedom can't be good for them," Petya says. "Would you like me to make sure of that, sire?"

"No, we are not arresting anyone on the Crown Prince's birthday," Alys says. "Gregor's run out of celebratory pardons to give out and we'll need the faculty there back when classes start up again."

 

 

"What did you end up deciding to name him?" Padma asks.

"Unfortunately," Gregor says, "our first choice for the name was vetoed by the honoree. We had hoped to name him Piotr after his grandfather--"

"Which is strange," Petya says, "considering the Empress's father was named Oliver."

Gregor ignores him imperiously/imperially. "And so, after consulting at length with the Empress's mother, we decided to name him Julian after her."

"And I'm sure Lady Julia appreciates the honor," Padma says dryly. "Petya, are you feeling insulted?"

"Gregor is going to have to do more than not name his son after me to insult me," Petya says. "Such as naming his son after me."

"By the time little Stefan is old enough to have his own sons, I don't think there will be any possibility of confusion," Padma says.

"It's the principle of the thing," Petya says. "Gregor has yet to notice that I'm not actually his father."

"You broke tradition and named your firstborn Stefan," Gregor points out. "And Imperial tradition is very strongly against naming for the biological grandparents."

"My father gave me permission to name my secondborn for him," Petya says mildly. "I'm afraid you are going to have to keep waiting for either my permission or my death."

Padma, noticing the way the conversation is moving, asks Gregor, "what have you chosen for the second name?"

"Francis," Gregor says. "He was a previous Count Vorhovis who never had grandsons. Because Petya's being stubborn, Isabelle gets both the names on the first son. We _had_ intended to split them and alternate."

"I am pleased to be of service to the Empress and her family," Petya says.

 

 

"And then I remembered that I'm the Emperor, as Petya's been known to remind me, and that I can be advised by my Prime Minister, but never ordered. So we're naming him Piotr."


	22. Gregor breaks Petya's brain with democracy (Escobar AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one needed _so much revision_. Also, it needed me to figure out how I was going to have Gregor Do Democracy (there's another one that is really short and its only purpose of posting would be to show that this Gregor uses the term Da for Petya). I had various notes. *hand waves*
> 
> The actual point of these is that Gregor wanting to control his teenage years and educational choices was All Part Of His Plan. Also, Gregor Vorbarra has panic attacks. Also also, Petya is a concerned father who will never allow anyone to call him Gregor's father.
> 
> As may be obvious, there are reasons this stuff never got done...

Title: Birthday  
Summary:

 

It's always been Count Vorkosigan. It's always _had_ to be Count Vorkosigan. Even in the last of it, when he had been so ill he had needed help moving, his armsmen had helped him to his knees, while Lord Vorkosigan, standing by the wall opposite Gregor, ground his teeth against a knuckle.

This year, it's Petya who kneels. Petya who catches his eye and holds it and then puts the silk bag in his hands and closes Gregor's fingers around it. Petya who murmurs _sire_ before standing. Petya who rejoins the party, with the only tension showing being a stiffness around his shoulders, and Gregor only sees it because he's looking for it, because he knows where it would be.

When he retires for the night, he waits for a half hour, pacing through his rooms, thoughts a jumble of emotions, and then he sends the summons for the new Count Vorkosigan. Highest priority; Vorbarra armsmen would grab him out of the shower in Vorkosigan House if necessary and bring him bodily. But Petya's still at the party, so it's all right, it's just a whisper in his ear. _The Emperor requires your presence immediately_. He's sent Petya variations of that summons over the years for a host of different reasons running the gamut of all the different priorities and he's always known that Petya would come. Petya always came. He once came from the middle of the Dendarii Mountains, two days later, but he always came as fast as possible to Gregor's side.

It was one thing Gregor could count on, and one of the only things he does.

Petya comes quickly and he knocks before entering. He doesn't have an escort, he's never had one before and Gregor knows he could order it now, because Petya doesn't live here anymore and so Petya shouldn't technically have full run of the Residence, security concerns alone, it's just not done, but he can't bring himself to revoke Petya's full access. It would be too much like betrayal.

Petya bows and Gregor remembers he's still wearing full Imperial livery. Petya's not snubbing him with protocol, he's only being proper. "Is everything all right, sire?" Petya asks.

His heart's thundering in his ears and Gregor shakes his head and then Petya's hands are on his shoulders, and Petya's helping him sit down.

"Get his doctor," Petya orders the armsman over his head, and Gregor shakes his head more, swallowing hard.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, it's nothing," he says quickly.

"I'm sure it is," Petya says soothingly, and then Gregor's personal physician comes rushing into the room.

"How bad is it?" Doctor Edwards asks Petya.

"He had the presence of mind to call me himself," Petya says. "Other than that, I have no idea. But he's been on edge all night."

"Sire, what have you eaten tonight?"

Gregor shakes his head, but then Petya rattles off a list of everything Gregor's eaten in the last few hours, with minor editorial comments about taste, and that's never going to stop being either creepy or a little too paternal for someone who's sixteen years older than him and only technically old enough to be his father. "Still creepy," Gregor says.

"Focus on exhaling," Petya advises.

"And alcohol?" Edwards asks.

"I don't know how much he swallowed," Petya says. "His steward may have kept track. Gregor, do you remember?"

 

 

 

Gregor shakes his head. "Remember how you used to ask me what I wanted for my birthday?"

"Yes." Petya frowns. He closes the space between them and wraps his hands carefully around Gregor's shoulders and helps him to sit down. Gregor thinks almost with a laugh that Petya looks about five minutes away from calling for Gregor's personal physician, the way Petya had when Gregor was small and would work himself up into a state and Petya wanted to reassure himself that Gregor hadn't come down with some illness that Petya have never heard of and didn't manifest symptoms in normal ways like fever or coughing. "Is there something you want this year?" he asks softly.

"I don't want you to kneel to me," Gregor says, and he rests his head against the curve of Petya's shoulder. He's taller than Petya now, but that doesn't matter. "I don't want to be your Emperor."

"Tonight wasn't the first time, Gregor," Petya murmurs. "What made tonight different for you?"

Petya never knelt to Gregor's father. Gregor knows that, knows it was a major factor in Petya being chosen as Gregor's guardian, that Petya, of all the other Vor, hadn't betrayed oaths to Serg, like the old Count and his Vorinnis uncles, or hadn't been ordered to and ignored the summons, like Uncle Padma. But Gregor had, he remembers the day like a nightmare, when his mother had led him to Ezar's deathbed and his father was standing there and even that young, Gregor had wondered why his father was grinning like he'd just won a game, because you weren't supposed to smile when people died, you were supposed to be sad, and Grandfather was dead, so it was very sad, so his father shouldn't have been happy, and Gregor had seen his mother's hands shake and watched her still them and he'd repeated what she'd whispered to him to say, a son's vassal oath, the crown prince's oath to an Imperial father, and he remembers the way it had felt, it had felt wrong and full of fear and his mother making whispered plans and practicing drills with him in secret, how to hide, how to get away, what to do if bad things happened.

"It felt _wrong_ ," Gregor says inadequately.

"Gregor--"

"I'm not, I'm not having doubts, nothing like that, no, no, nothing like that at all," Gregor says, and Petya starts rubbing circles on Gregor's back, holding him in place, trying to tie him firmly to the present. "You're my _father_." Petya goes very, very still, like he always, always does, damn him, can't he ever let Gregor have his delusions? "Not like him," Gregor continues desperately, "but I'm your son much more than I am his. You're my father, and public obeisance rituals are _obscene_ , they're--"

Petya stands abruptly and pulls away entirely from Gregor. "Sire," he says formally. "I can't listen to this."

Gregor reviews what he just said and then shakes his head. "No, I meant that. I meant that completely."

"You can't order me to break your own law," Petya says. "And listening to you speak this sort of--"

"Can't there be anything I say that has no consequence?" Gregor asks. He wants Petya back, he wants Petya tying him to the ground, but he can't have it, not when Petya's mad at him, Petya doesn't ever touch him when he's mad at him, he promised he never would, he promised. "I'm the Emperor and my breath can be law, but it is not always so. I can't-- I can't change the color of the sky, or... some things are true, always."

"Sire," Petya growls. "If you're having doubts about me or my loyalty, for pity's sake, just tell me. Don't test me like this. Don't."

"It's not--"

"We aren't traitors," Petya says. "Vorkosigans aren't traitors." Which is such a blatant lie, but Petya's not a traitor. That was the whole point. The Lord Regent was a notorious traitor, but he put Gregor on the throne and kept him there, through the peace treaty with Escobar, through a thousand political crises, through everything. "We didn't win you as a prize in war. You were never our prisoner--"

"I think we're having two different conversations," Gregor says desperately. "I'm having an identity crisis, and you think I'm calling you a traitor. This is about me, not you, Petya. I know you're not a traitor, you're the last person I would ever think would be a traitor--"

"An identity crisis?" Petya glares at him. "What kind of Betan nonsense is that?"

"My kind of Betan nonsense," Gregor says. "You know how they said," Gregor continues, quieter, because shouting is not helpful, Serg used to shout and scream and he's not Serg, "that sending me to a Betan expat school meant you were deliberately putting the Emperor in a breeding ground of sedition? I think they were right."

Petya looks like he'd just contracted a headache. "We sent you there to get your horizons expanded," he says. "Instead of sending you to that echo chamber of the preparatory academy. That breeding ground of endless militarism."

"Ha," Gregor says. "I knew you were a secret revolutionary. It's hard to see, what with you," _puppet-mastering half the government_ , "running the government."

"At your orders," Petya says mildly. "I serve at your pleasure."

"I'm not disputing that," Gregor says. "I'm not, I'm really... the last five Emperors... when was the last time we had a peaceful transition of power? Or two of them in a row? Dorca took it on the heels of civil war, he won it there, the throne, he won the right to be the crown prince. Yuri was cut into pieces when he was still alive and even that barely sufficed to sate everyone's taste for blood. My father--"

"I've seen Negri's reports," Petya says. "I know what he tried."

"He tried regicide, patricide, and then it took a war to depose _him_." And then the revolutionaries did Gregor a favor and put _him_ on the throne. But it's hard for Gregor to see it as any kind of favor. It was just that Gregor was the only one they all could agree on. If Count Vorkosigan had tried to give it to Petya, the Vorinnises would have broken off from his coalition. And if the Vorinnises had tried to become Gregor's legal guardian, it would have split power between two families and been a shining signal to their enemies that the relationship between the Lord Regent and the Imperial Guardian was rife for [exploitation, undermining]. They could never allow that glaring a weakness. Gregor knows this. He really does. But just because it was in his favor doesn't mean, Gregor thinks, that it was in his best interest[]/that he has to like it, that he has to thank them. "I think we're due for a prole revolt if--"

"A prole revolt could not succeed," Petya says. "Or, if successful, be maintained. Our society is nowhere near ready for it."

Gregor blinks at him. That sounds like a view that Petya's reasoned through and discussed at length, not some kind of High Vor knee-jerk reaction. Petya's been thinking about this?

"It's an ongoing discussion between me and Captain Naismith," Petya explains. "She has... well, she has entirely reasonable views that any sort of criminal justice system as open to corruption as ours should not be allowed to continue. A charge in the Counts has more to do with political maneuvering rather than the actual facts of the matter." Petya looks wistful[] and Gregor remembers that Aral Vorkosigan's sentence for treason had been unanimous; everyone who was about to revolt hadn't been in the chamber at the time, they'd been worried that Serg might take advantage of their presence and murder them as well. "She does have several excellent points about our balances of power and our checks on its overuse. But I've told her from the start, I'm not going to pass any of it on to you, short of a direct Imperial order to do so. Cordelia... she was a little surprised when I told her that, she's viewed it as discussions between the two of us, independent of our political realities, I don't think she'd ever considered using me to get to you, she has no desire to be some kind of Betan puppet-master--"

Petya's friendship with Cordelia Naismith is its own very large section in Petya's file and has been fodder for capital gossip since Petya came home. Gregor hadn't met her until a few years ago, when the Betan Embassy had brought her to Barrayar. The public reason had been for her to be an honored guest during a renewal of trade agreements and their shared usage of the colony planet. As for the private reasons, well, Gregor remembers _that_. Captain Naismith hadn't been told in advance that she was supposed to be a spy. Petya and ImpSec had taken it as a given, but Gregor guesses that Betans and Barrayarans had very different ideas about these sorts of things. Captain Naismith, when she had found out that her government expected her to use her friendship with Petya for Beta Colony's gain/benefit in trade concessions, had not been amused. To put it lightly.

"Puppet-mastering is an un-Betan thing to do," Gregor says. "We got that in school. The evils of the Vor system." Gregor had mostly just shrugged over it at the time. He'd had briefings on how the Betan government worked and he'd never been entirely impressed. At least the Vor acknowledge their puppet-masters, that they had them. Everyone knows who the powers in Vorbarr Sultana are. Everyone knows that Serg might have been Emperor, but Ges Vorrutyer was the one you should really be scared of, because Serg would attack you from the front, but Vorrutyer would knife you in the back, like he did to Aral Vorkosigan. "The Betans have term limits, so at least their puppets have to keep changing."

"The Betans," Petya says, "highly object to the idea that the people they elected to office might have people standing behind them. But, at the same time, they all seem to agree that their President is nothing but an empty figure-head, a joke, someone who they can laugh about and wonder how anyone could have voted for him, without ever stopping to think that maybe nobody did. I'm not sure who they do think holds all the power. It's as if they live in a very controlled anarchy and like it that way. But who does the controlling... their system works, Gregor, but I am never going to try to convince you to try to shove it onto Barrayar. We can sooner teach a horse to become a Count."

"But you said that Captain Naismith had some excellent points," Gregor says.

Petya frowns at him. "She thinks we should write down and codify the relationship between the Emperor and the Counts. I said it would probably require us to publicly acknowledge that the Vor actually _are_ taxed. She said that was part of the point. She said the proles would appreciate it."

 

"How long," Petya asks through the fingers covering his face, "have you been considering this?"

"Forever," Gregor says. "It's not-- it's not your fault, it's really not, I had this in mind already when I said I wanted to go to the Betan school, because I thought it could help, it could give me ideas how to, but I've been... my father killed my mother, Petya. And a lot of other people, but... unchecked, unrestrained, absolute power is _horrible_. It needs to-- it needs to stop. The Emperor shouldn't have the right to kill anyone he wants. The only way to resolve differences between the Emperor and the Counts shouldn't be war. There's so much-- I know why Dorca did what he did and I know that he was right to do it, that it was the only way to solve the problems they faced back then, but-- if I could give up all my power right here, right now, and know that it could be done-- and know that we could peacefully transition to some kind of government where--"

 

"We can't hold direct elections for leaders, not with the way things are now," Gregor says. "But I don't see why we can't allow for referendums. If a Council vote is close, why don't we throw it to the people and let them decide?"

 

 

"I wasn't," Gregor hisses. "I really wasn't. I was ignoring all of it. But then he came to me with proof, proof that you had your fingers wrapped around ImpSec, proof that you could sway them to your side and they would betray me and obey you."

"What," Petya asks, feeling frozen in place, "have you done to Simon/with Illyan?"

"Nothing yet," Gregor says, crossing his arms. "Although I do have an arrest warrant for him on my desk. I haven't signed it yet."

"I thought you believed me," Petya says dully, "when I told you that we were in this together."

"You also promised never to lie to me," Gregor says. "And you _did_ , so what else have you been lying to me about?"

"--and who is _he_?" Petya demands, feeling like he's mentally lagging five minutes behind this conversation. Is this what betrayal feels like?

"Count Vordrozda," Gregor replies, and that's when Petya sits down with a heavy thump on the nearest chair, and, with as much dignity as he can bring up, offers to submit to a fast-penta interrogation should his Emperor deem it necessary to ascertain his true loyalties.

At which point, Petya is pretty sure, he would lose all faith in that damn boy forever. But at least that damn poor boy wouldn't have lost faith in him.

And then Gregor backtracks quickly, but this is clearly an ambush and Petya can see it all stretching out in front of him, years of mistrust and distancing, until that inevitable moment where Gregor severs their connection entirely, and Petya wonders what excuse Vordrozda, that disgusting excuse for a traitor, would have come up with if Petya hadn't offered him Simon Illyan gift-wrapped on a platter. He would have come up with something eventually, but Petya probably shouldn't have offered him that much help.

On the other hand, it's none of Vordrozda's damn business what Petya used to get up to with Simon Illyan. It's Gregor's business, but it wasn't at the time, and as it stands, Gregor is doing both Petya and Illyan a great disservice by suspecting them.


	23. Piotr's funeral (Escobar AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no series notes in this file; thank you for semi-useful file names.
> 
> This was probably just going to be Gregor making a [shiva call](http://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/how-to-make-a-shiva-call/) to Petya, unless I also meant this to be a rewrite of that time Gregor ambushes Petya with Democratic Ambitions and traumatizes him.

Title: Hear The Bells  
Summary:

 

Petya hates state funerals. He hates the endless standing around, the endless ceremony. He hates receiving lines. He hates formal mourning. He wants private mourning, he wants to pillow his head on three pillows and get so drunk he forgets the entire week.

They'd had a state funeral for his father, when Petya had come back. It was a big ceremonial/political spectacle, mourning for all the dead as represented by dead Aral Vorkosigan, martyr of the Resistance. Petya had hated it then, too. The ceremony mocked itself. Aral Vorkosigan had died a traitor's death in plain sight in the public square and had been hastily buried without a funeral. To add more public spectacle to his death had struck Petya as horrific.

And now his grandfather is dead. Petya had to hand it to him, he'd managed to survive the regency by two years, possibly the old man's greatest achievement. Put Gregor on the throne on his majority and hang around long enough to see him hold power in his own right, long enough for two Birthdays to pass, two very public ceremonies of obeisance.

And now the old man is dead and Petya's the only Vorkosigan left.

Not for long, of course. The old man had given his blessing on Petya's betrothal. The wedding date might have to be moved, either forward or pushed back. Petya's leaving that in Galina and Alys's more than capable hands. They know the social scene better than anyone and the political scene better than most; they can decide when Petya and Galina will be getting married.

"The Emperor," one of his armsmen announces, and Petya lifts his eyes up from contemplating the wall to see Gregor standing in the entrance. Gregor dismisses the armsman and then waves Petya to stay as he was. Petya hadn't actually made move to get up for Gregor, so he's happy that Gregor isn't insisting on protocol.

"Count Vorkosigan," Gregor says and then stops.

"Yes, he's dead," Petya agrees.

Gregor looks at him like Petya is very interesting and he's never seen him before. "I meant you," he says softly.

"The day you start calling me by titles in private, Gregor," Petya says, "is the day I give up all hope of having raised you properly. Now get over here and start drinking."

Gregor laughs a little at that, but comes over anyway and settles himself down opposite Petya. "I came to offer my sincerest condolences."


	24. Petya and Gregor, original regent convo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The note on this one says: [this needs either to be completely redone or moved into something else. Maybe the regent convo? --yes, been stuck into the regent convo. if want to keep rest of it, put it somewhere else]
> 
> I have no idea if the rest of it got dumped anywhere else, but at a skim, there are some stuff in here that I don't *think* made the transfer/survived it into the other doc? 
> 
> *shrugs*

Title: The Auditor's Brother  
Summary:

 

Petya shouldn't be surprised that Miles has managed to con his way into an Imperial Auditorship. He should probably be surprised it took this long. Still, he fishes out the black, unmarked comm-card and feeds it to the console.

"Piotr Vorkosigan," Petya identifies himself. The gatekeeper passes him through without comment and the call is immediately answered. Petya supposes Gregor was waiting for this.

"Lord Vorkosigan," Gregor greets him. 

Petya bows sitting down. "Sire." Formalities over with, Petya leans back in his chair. "I heard you are seeing fit to give my brother the keys to the kingdom."

"He's promised not to scratch it," Gregor's lips quirk into a small smile. "And he'll have it home before midnight."

"You know his seizures are tied to stress," Petya says. "Gregor, are you sure putting him in a position of this much stress is a good idea?"

"I remember the conversation we had about Aral," Gregor says, answering the question Petya's actually asking. "And I still agree with you. But Miles isn't your father and the doctors at ImpMil say that, with the new chip, his condition is manageable, not debilitating. And if I send him off to Sergyar, he'll just dig up some treacherous worms and bring them back to my doorstep."

"He does have a knack for finding trouble," Petya allows.

"I'd rather harness it for my own ends," Gregor says, "than let him run wild. Those did seem to be my only options. The thought that he would run off to his mercenaries still haunts me."

A treason trial at seventeen because of an accident. Only Petya's brother. "I understand," Petya says. "I've had concerns about someone finally getting around to pointing out that he was never acquitted on the Vorloupulous's Law minor charge, only the major charge of usurpation."

"He was never charged on the minor one," Gregor reminds him. "Are you now asking for a pardon for him?"

"He's an Auditor," Petya says. "That's about as good as a pardon. Accusing him of treason is now infinitely harder, thank you, sire."

"My wedding will give the Conservatives new meat to gnaw over," Gregor says. "Forget about it, Petya. The past will remain in the past, and, well, Miles _didn't_ run off to the Dendarii. Small favors."

"Thank Ivan for that."

"I did," Gregor says. He pauses, then seems to come to a decision. "About my wedding."

"Yes?" Petya had met Dr. Toscane, of course. She seemed a good sort. For a Komarran. Bemused, Petya supposes he's of the generation that is always going to automatically mentally add that qualifier, no matter what polite words he might end up saying. His elders had considered the Komarrans a danger to Barrayaran sovereignty due to who they might let it next, but posing no danger in and of themselves. Petya's was the generation that had to fight the Komarran Resistance and redeem with blood Aral Vorkosigan's mistake. But perhaps Gregor's generation was going to do better. _We must bequeath a better Barrayar_.

"I hope you weren't offended when I asked Miles to be my Second," Gregor says. "You are my foster-brother as well and I owe you my life. I will never forget how you protected me during the Pretendership."

Petya held a hand up, hoping to stem the tide of Gregor deciding to bring up even more ancient history. "But Miles was your playmate and is as close to a true brother as you have. I understand, Gregor. I wasn't offended." With twenty years between them, Petya's always thought he would have been shocked if Miles would ask him to be his Second. He's always known that would be Gregor, if it could be politically managed, or Ivan. Petya being Gregor's Second has never crossed his mind.

"But I hope you will still be available for social duties regarding it," Gregor says. "Lady Alys has given me a truly frightening list of meals that must be eaten if I am not to offend anyone."

"My digestion is at your service, sire," Petya says. "I, um, trust that this is on the Barrayar side of it only?"

Gregor nods. "Of course. You and Miles are off the hook for any Komarran diplomacy, as always. ImpSec has enough headaches without me giving them more."

Petya smiles almost wistfully. _There but for the grace of politics go I_. "Will Mark be given gastrological duties as well?"

"Ah...no," Gregor responds delicately. "It was not deemed necessary."

Petya tries to imagine the conversation that must have occurred between Gregor and Dr. Toscane about Miles's clone brother, and fails to keep his face entirely blank. Gran'da may have kept his spare's name from Miles, but that had only meant that it was free to be assigned to the third son instead. From Pierre le Sanguinaire to General Piotr Pierre to Lord Mark Pierre Vorkosigan, clone and almost-assassin. _Old man, you got what you deserved: your name going to even more of a blood-line horror than our dear Miles_. Ivan once accused Petya of taking too perverse an enjoyment in the fact of Mark's successful integration into the family. As far as Petya is concerned, there is no way to be too perverse in ironic justice.

"Who has been drafted? Myself, Miles, the Count and Countess, Lady Alys..." Petya considers Gregor's maternal-line relatives. "I assume Count and Countess Vorinnis as well. Will any other Vorinnises be joining us?" 

There's a mess of Vorinnises, but Petya's not sure how many of them are related closely enough to Gregor to stand as a close relative. As second cousins[?] a generation removed, neither Petya nor Miles are close enough blood relatives, but they are foster-brothers, and Miles is an Imperial Auditor and Imperial Second while Petya is a Minister. The Vorinnis genealogy is a bit complicated; he never could keep it all clear in his head. It's worse than his Vorrutyer relatives.

That's something, at least, that a Komarran Empress would be good for. If there's any one thing the High Vor desperately need, it's less obsessive inbreeding. _The Emperor will show us the way, and all will run to follow fashion_. But Petya supposes he's being too cynical about it. From Miles's report, this actually is a love match. Or, at least, a love match on Gregor's side. Petya has no idea how an important Komarran heiress, one generation removed from that oh so very bloody revolt and who had a family member who had been killed by the Resistance as a collaborator, felt about being pursued by the Emperor whose foster-father was still commonly known on Komarr as the Butcher. Petya's certain that this is a Barrayaran Vor Wedding's worth of more complicated than Dr. Toscane returning Gregor's feelings on Dr. Toscane's end. A brave woman, Countess Vorkosigan had called her. Petya supposes if anyone knew about brave out-worlders trying to tame a hostile Barrayar, it's his step-mother.

"Count and Countess Vorinnis will be attending to meals in the District outside of Vorbarr Sultana and my great-aunt Lady Adelina will be available as necessary to cover any emergencies. That's all in terms of relatives. Commodore Galeni -- I believe you know him? -- will be escorting Delia Koudelka to some dinners for which he is particularly suited."

Petya mentally translated that as: _showing off, for maximum effect, ImpSec's prize tame Komarran. Isn't integration wonderful?_

"You will have backup at some meals, but you and Miles will never overlap for obscure precedence reasons. Quite simply, Lady Alys conceded defeat at the possibility of trying to resolve the seating arrangements to the satisfaction of protocol. Be proud, that's an actual first in my reign."

Petya blinked. "Precedence problems, sire?"

"Ah, yes. Lady Alys hasn't mentioned it yet? She was positively gleeful when she dug it up yesterday. Precedence is all clear for the wedding, of course, but these meal invitations are neither strictly part of the wedding nor strictly not part of the wedding. And it turned out that by appointing a younger brother, who is a Lord Auditor in his own right, to be my Second, while his elder brother is, well, you and your titles, I was giving Lady Alys a truly amazing headache of precedence problems." Gregor ticks them off on his fingers. "Two brothers, the younger a Lord Auditor and Imperial Second, the elder a Count's Heir and Minister, with both Count's choice and primogeniture in play against Emperor's Choice and Emperor's Voice. At the wedding, he will have precedence, while just about everywhere else, you do. But this is neither strictly the wedding itself nor a non-wedding event and is certainly not an Imperial Audit and so we find ourselves in a bit of a mess and something, to put it bluntly, in a tie. And so in this case, a precedent for precedence needs to be set, and Lady Alys thought it best to leave that particular problem for some other time, should it ever need to be resolved in the future. For now, we are simply side-stepping the matter."

"I would happily cede precedence," Petya says, a little dazed at the idea of Lady Alys, _Lady Alys_ , deciding a protocol problem was too obscure and not worth the time and effort of untangling it. Petya wonders if this wedding would finally be the political monster that would convince Lady Alys to retire. It seems likely, from this vantage point.

"Miles said the same thing," Gregor says. "And so you both cede precedence to each other and we're right back where we started."

Petya considers. "I was about to say I have a solution, but I don't believe I do, only more titles and hats switching off between Vorkosigans and the complications thereof. Miles becoming the-lord-auditor-my-brother was giving _me_ a headache before you just informed me that it had defeated General Alys in the Battle of Imperial Protocol."

Gregor's lips twitch into a smile.

"Before this Auditorship became a permanent position, Miles and I had discussed him permanently taking up the Count-our-father's voting proxy, due to the usual complaint when a Count also holds a Ministry. In that situation, then, I would be the Heir, but he would always hold the proxy."

"Miles is half-Betan," Gregor says. "He takes perverse enjoyment in wrinkles in democracy."

Petya gives Gregor a half-bow. "Still, even for me, the idea that in any Joint Council session I would have to be two different people at the same time did sound exhausting. However, if Miles is going to be sent on investigations with little to no warning or with any regard for a Council vote -- as befits an Imperial Auditor, certainly, I'm not complaining about security emergencies--"

For some reason, Gregor almost bursts out laughing at that. Petya develops a severe suspicion about if Gregor was already by the comm because the Emperor was about to call _him_. Petya waves it away.

"As it stands, then," Petya finishes, "if he is going to be doing a lot of emergency traveling, I think we'll decide that I'll keep it permanently and he'll take it up only if I have an emergency of my own. There had been a wrinkle we hadn't sorted out, about what we would do if we found ourselves at a difference of politics. That's always a nasty tangle of legalities, if two Count's Voices disagree."

"Do you and Miles have such explosive disagreements that you'd want to get that sorted in advance?" Gregor asks.

"I try to anticipate everything," Petya says. "That way, when my ship blows up, at least I have been warned."

"Vorkosigans," Gregor muttered to himself. "I should stop being surprised."

"At our metaphors?" Petya asks. "Or the fact that the two Vorkosigans on ship duty have managed to destroy a great deal of Imperial property?"

"You've done your fair share," Gregor says. "I've seen your record."

Ah. Petya sits back. "And is there a particular reason you've been reviewing my file," _sire_ , "Gregor?"

"Pre-wedding security concerns," Gregor says. "Of which there are many. I'll be sending Allegre over later, to brief you thoroughly on the most recent developments," Gregor continues blandly and Petya flushes red. Gregor smirks at him evilly, in Gregor's own way, which makes him look about eight. "Now that Miles isn't rushing off on covert ops missions, I give him about a year to fall in love all over again. It's okay, Petya. You can relax. Miles will do his dynastic duty with aplomb, as soon as some poor women stands still long enough to let him convince her to come back to Barrayar."

"Um," Petya says, because it seems a response is called for.

"I know, this is something we don't talk about." Gregor shrugs. "But I hope you had not had plans on keeping this a secret from your family, because your brother is well-aware of it." Gregor pauses. "Mind you," he continues thoughtfully, "well-aware, but not exactly calm. In fact, he was very excitable about it, barging in to demand if I knew about his brother and my ImpSec chief. He asked me if I knew I was contributing to the rumor that, to get ahead in ImpSec, you have to marry into the Vorkosigan social circle. Miles didn't use that euphemism, of course, but I would prefer not to insult the honor of My security."

Petya considers, with regret, that there are no Cetagandans around to kill General Piotr's grandson properly and he would have to die by embarrassment instead. Damn it, there's a reason he and Gregor never talk about this.

"You have my blessing, certainly, if that's what you want," Gregor continues. "Or, at least, my knowledge along with my active uninvolvement and learned disinterest. I can't promise to keep Miles from bothering you over it, though it's possible that handing him this Auditorship will distract him until he calms down."

"I should be so lucky," Petya says. How and when had Miles found out? Petya starts to consider recent events, then shrugs. All Miles had to do, after all, was pay any attention to the guards at Vorkosigan House. The Chief of ImpSec travels with security. And Miles could probably find out from the armsmen when Lord Vorkosigan was paying a visit to restaurants near ImpSec HQ or visiting a private, well-secured apartment. No, Petya supposes. There had been no chance of ever keeping this a secret.

"I think Miles blames himself for introducing you. He blabbered on that that was how you met, when he came to visit Simon."

"Not everything is Miles's fault," Petya says. _As you well know, if you have actually been reviewing my full file, Gregor._ "I had the pleasure of making General Allegre's acquaintance many years ago. We had kept in touch over the years, but we hadn't met in some time, not until he came to visit Illyan."

Gregor looks to the side, possibly at Guy's service record or, Petya suspects, Petya's own record. Or, worst case scenario, an ImpSec report on his affair fresh from the Domestic Affairs desk and probably hand-delivered by Guy, who knew exactly what he was carrying and hadn't had a chance to warn Petya yet. _This is Barrayar. Of course your lover has to order a security analysis on your clandestine affair. And then hand-deliver it to the Emperor-your-foster-brother_. 

Ah, well. In that worst-case scenario, the report would at least be Imperial-eyes-only. Small favors indeed. Petya wondered who had been the unlucky agent who'd been forced to analyze Illyan's affair with Lady Alys. _Nothing like conducting a security briefing on your boss's sex life to let you know what planet you're on_. 

"Yes, you met on Earth. I was about seven, wasn't I?" Gregor asks. "I remember that tour. You vanished suddenly and without any notice and didn't come back, not for Winterfair or even the Birthday. There was a time when I thought I had made you up or dreamed you into existence, my noble protector who taught me how to milk a goat and throw a dagger at a grown man."

"I made you practice on trees first," Petya says. "I wasn't going to let you accidentally hurt yourself." In retrospect, that entire episode seemed to have been a fit of paranoia. At the time, the paranoia was well-deserved. "My assignment to Earth was simply a political necessity, not a commentary on how I conducted myself during the war. My father made that quite clear." _It may be exile, but it's not punishment, it's politics. Just don't try to come back home before we say you can._ "I was permitted to catch up on my home leave after the worst rumors died out."


	25. Petya and Guy, random sex stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A combination of a file named "randomguypetya.doc" and one named "randomguypetyaverse.doc". I don't actually know where I meant to go from here, if anywhere. Probably sex stuff.
> 
> This should probably count as one of the "never started" ones, but as so little actual sex stuff got into the posted stuff, here, have some sex stuff. ;)

Title:

 

Guy wouldn't put it past him to leave him a note saying "Piotr Vorkosigan would like you to know that you are not fucking him hard enough and this is completely unacceptable."

Title:  
Summary:

 

Guy wakes up in/is pulled from the middle of a completely ridiculous sex dream -- he wakes up with an impression of maple syrup and someone's rank insignia, which, _no_ , and it stays with him all day, _even worse_ \-- because someone's got the news on much too loud and he's just heard the name Vorkosigan shouted in echo with his dream


	26. Laisa and Vor politics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know anymore, guys. The only thing I got is that the suggsted tags in the document include "Shameless Self-Indulgence". At some point, you just gotta roll with it.

Title:  
Summary:

 

This time, there's a woman waiting with Lady Alys when Laisa comes in. The woman looks to be a few years older than Laisa, dressed in what Laisa has learned to recognize as appropriate Vorish wear, deliberately calculated to blend in.

Lady Alys smiles warmly at her and Laisa fights the urge to run and hide. Maybe one day Lady Alys will stop reminding her sharply of her old aunts who would meticulously critique and tear apart Laisa's trade proposals until she got them right. But that day is not today.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," says the woman who turns out to be Gregor's eldest first cousin, Lady Mathilde Vorinnis Vorreedi.

What Laisa knows about her from Alys is that she's married to Lord Vorreedi. What Laisa knows about her from Gregor is that she used to call him Goo Boy.

"Today's politics briefing is a hands-on demonstration," Lady Alys says, and Lady Mathilde nods.

"It's easier to see it," Lady Mathilde says. "Alys sent me your dissertation and a sample of your professional work, so I think you'll find this more familiar and easier to follow than a dry history."

The Vor aren't strange enough that Laisa can't tell that Lady Alys finds that an unfounded/undeserved critique.

Lady Mathilde keys up a program on the comconsole and a holographic display of the Council of Counts chamber appears.

"This is a vote calculator," Lady Mathilde says, "but it's also very useful for seeing how all the Counts and the politics work, all the threads pulling towards and against each other. This one is pretty sophisticated. My parents put it together and one of my sisters has done major work on it. We supplement it with all the information we can get and it also takes into account historical voting records. It goes further than some other voting calculators. I'd say it goes the furthest, but we all keep ours under lock and key, so I can't say for certain. It's the most sophisticated that I know about."

She keys up a new vote on it and starts playing with percentages and keywords. Laisa leans forward in her chair and frowns at it in thought as certain seats and blocks change colors depending on other factors. It looks exactly like--

"This looks exactly like everything I've been playing scenario games on since I was a kid," she says.

Lady Mathilde nods. "That's it exactly. We take into account clustering effects and the problems of overlapping voting blocks, someone will vote with someone unless they're voting with someone else, that kind of problem. Pet issues, personal and political favors, private feuds, the courtship scene, everything we could think of to put in and manage to assign a value to. The best part of this, I think, is the way [name] managed the weights. If Gregor throws his support behind something," and Lady Mathilde demonstrates, "that's twenty-five votes guaranteed, and you can see the percent chance that other votes might come. But one or two of those guaranteed votes might mean that someone won't vote for it, because someone like Count Vordarian or Count Vordrozda might be vehemently against it, but can't afford to publicly disagree with Gregor. So one of their cronies would probably vote against it. But that's not necessarily so. There are so many factors that come into play."

"What kind of dependancies are you dealing with?" Laisa asks. "The biggest factor, I mean."

"Interpersonal relationships," Lady Mathilde says. "Horrifically so. It's why we have to keep having to make so many updates to the weights and the switches and the clusters. If this vote, then not this vote, and if this vote and this vote but not this vote -- it goes on for a while like that. A factor like the best interest of the District, that's something that very rarely needs to be changed. It has a high weight, of course. You will not be able to get a Count from a one kind of District to agree to certain things, or a Count from another kind of District to agree to other things. But once you introduce messy human factors like rivalries or broken betrothals, then it gets complicated. And that's constantly shifting. It takes a lot of energy and attention to the social and political scenes to keep this any kind of accurate."

 

And every Count has a relationship/influential relationship/relationship of influence with every other Count, either directly or only through intermediaries. Here's a simple one for example: the Vorinnis and the Vorkosigans. Some influences are only exerted in one direction, like the Vorkosigans and the Vorbrettens, or could be in both directions in theory, but very rarely are, like the Vorkosigans and the Vorrutyers, or both sides actually do influence each other. The influence here is exerted in both directions, although unequally; that's just a legacy of the last three decades. [name] expects it to adjust itself relatively quickly.

"See, this part here, that's the chance that they'll vote together. That number is artificially high because my father did not vote against Prime Minister Count Vorkosigan or the Lord Regent, and the old Count Vorkosigan never voted against the Lord Regent either, so the votes were usually in line. The only times they weren't was when either my father or whoever held the Vorkosigan vote didn't vote, for whatever reason. It might drop, but it may not. My father and Lord Vorkosigan have an agreement to listen to each other, and vote with the other if one of them doesn't have a strong opinion and the other does. When Lord Vorkosigan took over the Vorkosigan vote, he came over and sat down with us -- my parents and sisters and me and a few cousins -- and we charted out his voting preferences with him, so we're using that instead of his specific voting record, of which there's only the last year and a half and whenever he served as proxy in the past. The numbers will adjust themselves, but it may go higher before it goes lower. For now, we consider it something of a sure thing; what could outweigh the vote-together indicator it is Gregor throwing in -- and they'd still vote together, voting with Gregor -- or if someone called in a personal favor to one of them that caused them to have a strong opinion that was opposite the other's. How _often_ that might happen, we'll see. The people who can call in major personal favors to Petya or to my father are the sort of people who could call in major personal favors to both of them.

 

Sphere of influence.

 

"Vote trading," Lady Alys prompts her.

"I was getting there, Aunt Alys," Lady Mathilde says.

 

 

Laisa expects this to be, like

 

Laisa leans forward in her chair and frowns in thought as she considers her 

 

Clustering effects

 

Multiple layers

Different weights


	27. Imperial wedding backstory things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a series of snapshots/flashbacks on the night before Gregor and Laisa's wedding.
> 
> I don't actually know which file I meant by "[that scene from regency??]".

Title: What A Kind Of Life It Has Been  
Summary:

 

 _The last Imperial wedding was forty years ago, when Crown Prince Serg Vorbarra married Lady Kareen Vorinnis_.

 

Alys:

 

Tim:

 

Arthur:

 

 _The birth of Prince Gregor was a cause for celebration_ \--

The night Gregor was born, they'd been having a family dinner, Tim remembers, and Vorbarra armsmen had been sent to collect them. The kids had stayed behind, but Timmy had gone

 

Mostly what Arthur remembers is Timmy catching Serg's eye and taking off his medic patch, slipping it into his pocket, and then pulling out his silver eyes.

 

_Prince Serg's death during the Barrayaran invasion of Escobar created a power vacuum. Aral Vorkosigan was quickly named Prince Gregor's Regent, to take power immediately upon Emperor Ezar's death._

 

Alexei:

[that scene from regency??]

 

Tim:

Tim trusts Aral with a child slightly less than he would a Cetagandan general.

"You're trusting him with this planet," Laura says.

"A planet is one thing," Tim replies. "A child is completely different."

It's too late to oppose Aral as Regent, and Tim would never have, anyway. He doesn't want the job, but he would have taken if it Aral had been unsuitable, still locked in his drunken stupor, and if Padma hadn't been considered senior enough in the political sphere because he wasn't in a Countship line.

_Dammit, Padma. I should have known you hadn't made it out. I should have found you._

But raising Gregor is completely different.

 

"It's one thing to trust him with a planet. It's another thing entirely to trust him with a child."

 

\----

Simon's here as a civilian and he prefers it.

Allegre and Vortala have been treating him with an extended courtesy that puts his teeth on edge, and Alys is as occupied as a general about to advance on a stronghold. He leaves her alone.

 

\---

Gregor:

 

Gregor is five years old and the Emperor and an orphan.

Uncle Petya looks different when he isn't covered in dirt and Gregor remembers him a little from before, when mama would have him for tea and he would bring Gregor presents, but he was always there to see mama.

Gregor is the Emperor now and he's an orphan and he's going to have a baby foster brother who is right now in a _machine_ , because that's how babies are born on Beta Colony, and baby Miles is half-Betan, which Gregor thinks means he's partly an alien, or maybe partly a dinosaur.

Aunt Alys laughs when Gregor says that to her, and Aunt Alys doesn't laugh anymore, so Gregor thinks he's figured it out very well. His baby cousin Ivan likes to pull on Gregor's shirts and he can't really do anything interesting yet, but Aunt Alys says that Gregor is allowed to play with him anyway so long as he's careful not to hurt him.

And Gregor's the Emperor now, so he's allowed to have people over for tea, and Uncle Timmy and Aunt Laura's girls like to pull his hair and make fun of him, but Gregor endures it, because he's the Emperor but they're older, and Uncle Timmy always asks him a lot if Uncle Aral is being nice to him and he always asks that a lot, like he thinks Gregor might tell him a lie. Uncle Timmy worries a lot, and he keeps asking after Gregor's doctor, too, and Gregor keeps forgetting to invite Doctor [] to tea sometime when Uncle Timmy's there so they can visit together and Uncle Timmy stops asking if he's feeling okay.

 

\---

Alys:

Going through Padma's will is both easier and harder than Alys had expected.

It wasn't that she hadn't known what it would say. 

It's a war will, and it'll hold up to anything. Custody of Ivan would only break down in the case of a nuclear bomb that turned Vorbarr Sultana into Vorkosigan Vashnoi, and even then, there might still a relative out there named in the will who could take him. Padma's property is similarly protected.

The will gives her custody of all minor children without caveat.

 

No one's going to oppose it. Petya's named as the executor, because Padma never amended the will after Aral became the Regent and so he could assume that Aral would still be on planet.


	28. Petya/Guy training scenario

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An abandoned attempt at Petya and Guy meeting up.

Title:  
Summary: Petya conducts a training scenario. And then goes for coffee and debriefing. (Petya/Guy Allegre)

 

The dank cell hadn't changed much in Petya's memories, though this angle on it was certainly a shift. The instructors pulled off his blindfold and gag and then smacked him across the face for good effort. The interrogators were all wearing masks, each a different color.

"What is your name?" Blue growled.

The interrogators were using Komarran accents. It was a fraught subject, one prone to much debate behind closed doors. Petya could remember taking this course as a cadet. Back then, the villains had put on greekie accents. Illyan, the proudest greekie Petya had ever met and he's met a few, put a stop to that at once when he became Chief of ImpSec. He'd leaned on the Lord Regent, who'd had some quiet words with the Commandant of the Academy.

Petya wasn't sure what they were going to do when there were enough Komarrans in ImpSec and the Service to pressure the Academy to changing the villains in this scenario yet again.

"Captain Piotr Vorkosigan," Petya recited blankly. "Imperial Service Diplomatic Corps."

Yellow cursed. "All diplomats are spies. Why should we care that Diplomatic Corps are the ones you're not supposed to kill?"

Blue slapped Petya's arm with a fast-penta allergy test. It came up negative. "Hey, lookie. Captain Important forgot to get his allergy implanted. Sloppy."

"Naw, too important. He's a _Diplomatic Corps_ spy, after all. Eats dinner, looks pretty. No brains, just a title. Typical Vor."

"Someone's heir?" Red said. He was the one standing behind Petya, playing with the ropes that tied him down. To the students, it was supposed to look like calculated, casual torture. The first time he had done this training scenario, Petya had been surprised to discover that it was all bluster and no substance. It didn't hurt at all. There was more theatricality in one of these than he had realized at the time. Even the allergy test was fake. The so-called results could be whichever way the scenario called for it to be. Officers like Petya could be used for either one.

Last time, he'd had to pretend a fast-penta allergy. He hadn't known it at the time, but one of the observing students had been a Count's nephew. And had told his uncle. Petya had been cornered at a private dinner party at Vorkosigan House by a very concerned Count Vorbretten, who wanted to know why Petya's father had allowed his son to be given such a dangerous thing.

Petya would have loved to inform Count Vorbretten that when he started his career, he wasn't a count's heir yet. But he'd been the Lord Regent's heir, after all, and a Vorkosigan. Of course he'd been deemed too important to get the allergy implanted. He'd requested it and been denied. Petya was not permitted to die under questioning.

"The Prime Minister's," Petya said, at the cue. Petya could only imagine what the students were thinking right now. The ones who had never met him socially probably assumed he was a Corps officer playing pretend for a training scenario, with full knowledge and consent of Prime Minister Lord Vorkosigan. 

The ones who had... well, Petya would have to deal with them at the Birthday, at the very soonest. He was a Captain. They were cadets. They would shut up and not ask questions, though their eyes might pop out of their heads from the strain of holding their tongues.

This training scenario was one of those that you never, ever talked about with cadets who hadn't undergone it yet. When Petya had been a trainee, the instructor for the worst-case security nightmare scenario interrogation had been Lord Auditor Vorparadijs himself. _That_ had given him nightmares.

And that was when they slipped the fast-penta into a vein and Petya started talking.

It wasn't fast-penta. That would have been obscene and potentially a security nightmare. This scenario was meant to demonstrate many things, it was not meant to be an actual direct threat to the security of the Imperium. But the dose was a relaxant and a euphoric and it mimicked Petya's actual fast-penta reaction perfectly.

In a fast-penta interrogation, asking the right questions was crucial, but it required that the interrogator knew what questions to ask. The most dangerous interrogation scenario, therefore, wasn't getting picked apart on Jackson's Whole; it was being taken captive by a domestic group. They might not have the reputation as Jackson's Whole did for disappearing enemy spies, but groups like the greek seperationist movement caused the anti-interrogation trainers more sleepless nights, especially when it came to officers like Petya who knew too much about everything, but couldn't be given the allergy.

The instructors asked him questions. Petya talked. And talked. He'd had anti-interrogation training as a cadet and he cheerfully told the instructors all about it. He explained to them at length of everything they had done wrong in capturing him, in tying him up. He waved his hands in his face and punched Red to prove his point.

Yellow sat on him at one point. It was very satisfyingly theatrical. Miles would have approved.

And then they reached the point why the Academy had requested Petya specifically, instead of doing their usual grab of the most politically-connected High Vor officer on capital duty. And also why, for now, the people who argued against the scenario being a Komarran terrorist plot had lost.

"The Butcher is your father," Blue said menacingly. "Let's show him butchery and return the favor in kind."

They took a cut out of his arm, slicing the fake vein they'd put in that morning. Petya screamed.

 

\--

 

"Ah, Commodore Allegre." Petya looks up from his comconsole. "Please come in."

Allegre lets Petya guide him to a chair and then collapses down on it. "We have to stop meeting like this," Allegre grumbles. "People might talk."

"You're the one who keeps requesting me," Petya points out. "When was the last time you slept?"

"For more than thirty minutes at a time?" Allegre asks, voice heavy with irony. "Komarr. Before the last attack."

 

"That last scenario you did. The one where you scare future officers into crapping their paranoid pants. There were two Komarrans in it. You were introduced to them afterwards?"

"Yes. They were given a special debriefing from the scenario. Both were...shaken."

"What did you think of them?"

"Painfully eager. Desperate to prove themselves." Very solicitous of his health as well, even after they'd been reassured that it had all been fake. Komarrans as a group were very new to being allowed into the Service and even newer to the Academy. They were all handpicked. And all had been subject to intense fast-penta interrogations before being permitted to enter Imperial Service. None of them had the security clearance to know that the scenario had been a _fake_ interrogation, but the Academy had decided it was imperative to let them know. Petya spotted Lady Vorkosigan's gentle, Betan hand in that.

"Do you think they'll suit?" Allegre asked bluntly. "Not in the future. Now. I need a Komarran. I need him desperately. Last year's graduating class had some Komarrans, the first to graduate, but none were tracked into diplomacy. I need a Komarran in the Corps."

"To use against the Nexus or against Komarrans?"

"Komarrans. I need an example. I need to show that integration _works_ , that we've let a Komarran become a Nexus spy."

"We're not all spies," Petya said. "Really. Most of us aren't."

"I know you're not," Allegre waved it away. "You can't have the allergy treatment. But that stereotype is there and it's persistent and it works. I want to use it to my advantage."

"Have you finally gotten the Komarrans to stop killing suspected collaborators?" Petya asked. "If not, I'm not sure I want to hand you one of our pet Komarran cadets. They're too valuable to get senselessly slaughtered."

"That's the kind of thinking that had the four in the last graduating class all being given desk jobs. If they wanted desk jobs, they'd stay in the civil sector. They're joining the Service to make a point. We need to let them do it."

Allegre had obviously rehearsed this speech and obviously had a lot more to it. Petya put up a hand to stop it. "You don't need to convince me, sir. I'm all for getting soldiers as gloriously killed as they want to be. This is why I fly a desk; I don't want to be killed. Do you think you can get one of these Komarrans to volunteer? Not a forced volunteer, an actual volunteer, who understands that there are a great many options available other than the Corps?"

"Yes," Allegre said without hesitation. "Let me talk to them. I'll get a volunteer for your Corps. When I do, though, I want your assurance that you will have him sent to the advanced course and then assigned to Komarr. I don't want to let anyone talk him out of it. On your word as Vorkosigan, if need be."

 

As he escorted him out, Allegre shakes his hand. His index finger strokes against Petya's palm and in his eyes is an offer.

Count Piotr's health has been in extreme decline. He doesn't have much time left. It had been a race against time to see what could happen first: Count Piotr's death or Gregor's majority. Petya's been on home assignment for two years, running courses at the Academy. Petya had raced across the galaxy to his Grandfather's death bed once already, he didn't want to do it again. He would have Barrayaran duty until his grandfather died and Petya became Lord Vorkosigan. And then...then they would see. Petya didn't mind running a desk at the Academy, but he did miss being able to enjoy himself when he wasn't in the fishbowl that was Vorbarr Sultana society. He couldn't do anything without everyone knowing about it. His ImpSec guards were usually embassy guards who kept a special eye on him. Now he had actual, assigned to him, ImpSec guards if he went anywhere or did anything. 

On other planets, Petya thought, he at least had the illusion of privacy and the ability to have a private life. On Barrayar, there was no such thing. As much as he might like to offer to take Allegre back to some quiet spot and renew their acquaintance, he didn't dare do it. Not on this planet, not at this time. It was too dangerous.

Petya shook his head and looked to the side.

_Not now. Not yet. Not here._

But maybe some day.


	29. Petya Vorkosigan goes recruiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I abandoned this either because it was horrible or because I retconned it. Probably both.

Title:  
Summary: Petya Vorkosigan Wants You... For The Barrayaran Diplomatic Corps!

 

"My name is Piotr Vorkosigan. I am a Captain in His Imperial Majesty's Diplomatic Corps. And I am here for your souls."

Petya surveyed the room, looking for reactions.

"I am here for a mutie," he says. "If you were born with a mutation, I want you. If you have physical damage that sets you apart, I want you. If you think Barrayar would never accept you if they knew you had an invisible mutation, oh, I want you _yesterday_." Someone in the back dares to giggle. It's probably someone who has no intention of ever graduating.

"If you don't fit, I want you. If you think you'll never fit, I want you. Five years ago, I came here for a greekie. I got ten of them. That was fine, but I need more. I need you if you're a greekie. I need you if your grandfather couldn't read. I need you if your ancestors were on the wrong side of the Cetagandan War, if they supported Yuri, if they fought Dorca."

"Don't tell me you don't want to be an example. Don't tell me you want to pass as some High Vor wannabe. You sold your soul to Barrayar at the moment you sat for your entrance exam. Barrayar doesn't want any more Vor wannabes. The Diplomatic Corps needs everyone and we need them now."

"But today, I need a mutant. And I will tell you why. I spent my last tour on Lairouba. My first night there, someone asked me if Barrayarans still make women kill their babies for the crime of looking wrong. I never stopped being asked that question, ever. Lairoubans made it perfectly clear to me that if Barrayarans didn't like their children, well, they didn't much like us."

 

 

"Do you know what the Escobarans say about us? They think we can fight wars, maybe, if we try really hard and Beta isn't angry at us. But they don't think we can protect anyone, least of all our children. They think we throw the Emperor's subjects head long into tragedy from the moment they take their first breaths."

"And so I need a mutie. I need a mutie who will stand up proudly and speak his soul in his voice and testify that we are moving forward, who will use his life as an example of Barrayar's change. I need a mutie who will be proud of it."

"I don't have access to your medical records. I don't know if any of you are even what I'm looking for. But I do know that the Academy does not screen _out_ mutants." Petya watched as the sharper ones in the audience figured that out. "Considering the numbers, some of you are probably sitting next to mutants. That's good. I want you, too. I want those who truly do not mind serving with mutants. I want those of you who are not lying when you claim you do not care."

"I want you all."

 

"This is your first year at the Academy," Petya says, "you have two years to put down your requested specialties. I am telling you today that if you put down diplomacy and you put down any reason other than inherent laziness, you will get it. I can't use a lazy man. I can use a mutant. I can use a greekie. I can use anyone. I can even," he says, voice going towards heavy irony, "use a goddamn Vorkosigan upstart."

 

"You will be seeing me," Petya says. "You are all required to take several courses in diplomacy, to better represent Barrayar. You will be seeing me and you will be seeing other diplomatic officers. You will know us by the way we make you repeat your insults over again to make them sound more polished."


	30. The notes file

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random notes/things to put in. At some point, I entertained the idea of a situation where Guy had to do a fast-penta interrogation while Petya watched/was the cause of it all. 
> 
> I also meant to do something with Piotr's bastards. I gave Petya a first cousin who was the grandson of both Piotr and Negri, who bopped up here and there... and never actually made it into anything.

"My closest Vorkosigan relative," Petya frowns. "I don't know. I'm not even sure. Of my grandfather's siblings who weren't in Vashnoi when it well, one died at Vorfolse Bridge along with the rest of the cavalry and the other was-- sterile or he was too close to the blast and didn't want to risk muties, it was never very clear when they told that story. And he died, I think, only a handful of years after the war ended. I could show you his grave, if you like. My father was named for him. As for my grandfather's Vorkosigan cousins, most were in Vashnoi or in the surrounding areas. He had a cousin or two with him in his guerillas, but that war took a lot out of the District. I don't think any of them survived.

"By the time I came along, if I had any Vorkosigan relatives closer than three generations out, I never heard about them. Dorca's ascension, the Cetagandans, Yuri... some may have survived, but I don't know. Most of the Vorkosigans were in Vashnoi; we owned every inch/stick of it. It was the second largest city on the planet for a time. I probably have a fourth cousin Vorkosigan somewhere, but I've never run into any on my District tours, and I probably would have. That doesn't mean that there aren't any in other Districts, and I know for certain that there are no other Vorkosigans who can claim a lord's rank, _those_ I would have heard of. But otherwise, I just don't know. Gran'da was obsessed with our family tree... but there were notable exceptions. He's been dead for twenty years, I'm not going to keep going around pretending that I don't know he had bastards."

 

 

Petya raises his hand and cups Guy's cheek. "This permanent scowl is very menacing."

 

"We caught him."

 

"I look like someone who carries fast-penta around?" Allegre asked. "I don't need it/I can work without it. Fast-penta's jus ta tool. If you can't work without it, you're just a goon."

 

"Relax," Allegre said as the door closed. 'I just want to talk."

 

learn to appreciate a more delicate touch

 

"You aren't going to watch?" [] asked. It seemed out of [] with his impression of the Vor. If you order something done, see it through/you have ot have th estomach to see it through.  
Petya shook his head. "I need to handle

 

Allegre came out a half hour later, looking winded, but triumphant.

"Sir?" Roic asked.

"I have what I need."

 

learn to appreciate a more delicate touch

 

cordelia's pov on the betrothal

 

"An Allegre," Aral said.

 

 

Piotr Vorbarra comes into the world screaming his head off and


	31. The Petya Oral History AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *takes deep breath*
> 
> *shrugs*
> 
> *lets it out*
> 
> Okay, this thing had a brief outline, an excel file to keep track of people and alliances, and a lot of stuff about trying to figure out Barrayaran democracy. I put a ton of work into worldbuilding and stuff, but the words for writing this just weren't there. This was like pulling teeth to write and I lost motivation, so there's basically nothing here. I came to the conclusion that I wanted to read this a great deal more than I wanted to write it.
> 
> This slides in with [the post-Komarr split](https://archiveofourown.org/works/200606), if only because I am dissatisfied that I never posted more in it, despite how much of it I have in my head. 
> 
> I was very inspired by the Supernatural oral history fic [ Dead Soldiers: An Oral History of the End Times by girl_wonder](https://archiveofourown.org/works/205041).

Title: An Oral History Of The Revolution/ End Of The Barrayaran Imperium (or The Last Emperor?)

 

 **Introduction:  
**   
Ezar Vorbarra was the last Vorbarra Emperor born during the Barrayaran Isolation. His military service spanned the Barrayaran-Cetagandan War and the Vorbarra Civil War, during which he was one of the main belligerents. He reigned as the unopposed Barrayaran Emperor from the assassination of Yuri Vorbarra until his own assassination. For an in depth look at the costs and aftershocks of that war, the authors recommend _Living By The Sword: The Death Of Yuri Vorbarra_ and _The Problem of Vorbarra Succession, Volume VII_ , from/both Vorbarr Sultana University Press.

Many consider him to be the last Vorbarra Emperor, categorizing his son, Serg Vorbarra, as a war emperor or pretender who never had a formal coronation and therefore never reigned as a true Emperor, and Ezar's successor, Padma Vorpatril Vorbarra, as not being a Vorbarra.

Vorpatril Vorbarra, in his legal arguments during the Sergian War (Sergian Civil War?), presented his case using the precedent of salic descent, arguing that he had better right than Serg Vorbarra both for the Vorbarra throne and for the Vorbarra name.

Piotr Vorkosigan II, in his seminal History Of The Barrayaran Revolution, offered this critique of Ezar Vorbarra/the man: _a man who held the Imperium together, but failed to keep it together after his death_.

 

 **Part One: Death Of Ezar Vorbarra  
**   
Historian's Note: Ezar Vorbarra was shot thirty minutes after midnight on the night of his seventy-sixth birthday. He was shot twice in the heart with a stunner. His physician, Major Achard, reached him five minutes later, and ordered Ezar moved to the Imperial Military Hospital immediately. The Imperial Residence was barred shortly thereafter from the inside. Sometime that night, control of the Residence shifted from Ezarian forces to forces loyal to Serg.

At the time, all of his potential heirs were in the capital, having danced attendance on the Emperor at his birthday celebration earlier that night.

 

_Major Alain Achard, Imperial physician:_

There was nothing we could do. It was an adverse reaction to the stunner and it dropped him instantly. We took him to ImpMil immediately in case there was anything we could do, but there wasn't. It was your common stunner mistake, nothing more. We could never prove that it was intentional. That's always seemed to me to be the worst part of it all of it. We don't know if Serg meant to kill him. Serg later bragged that he did, tried to make it sound like he meant to do it and didn't bungle into killing his father, but I've always wondered.

Afterwards, I heard from Major Eltsov, who administered to Serg from his majority until his death, that Serg had put away some poisons and other drugs. The intent seemed to be a forced coma or other [non-lucid] state, with the stunner merely to get enough time to put the plot into place. I was in the woods with Eltsov, back when we were kids with the Green Army Medical Corps, and he knew his medical warfare. He knew those things when he saw them, and he said Serg had him get them for him.

That made more sense to me. Why use a stunner? If Serg wanted him dead, he had better methods. But an incapacitated Emperor was more useful. Serg could have slipped through a Regency and ruled in his father's name for as long as he pleased.

We ran all the tests and reports afterwards, but I couldn't give Negri any diagnosis other than that this was a terrible accident. But it was an accident under his jurisdiction, not mine. It was a failure of security, not medicine. We couldn't have saved the Emperor. Negri should have stopped the shots from being fired in the first place. Once Ezar was in my hands, it was too late and we were all doomed.

 

 _Armsman Oleg Rezanov_ :

We had our orders. Follow regulation immediately. If the Emperor died, we weren't to go to Serg. We were to go directly to Captain Negri and ask for his orders. The Emperor said he'd given Negri secret orders and we were to follow Negri's words in his voice, the way we'd done sometimes before.

Some of us refused. But I was with Ezar that night. I'd just gone off duty and then you hear the report of the shot. I got to the scene and there was the Major, kneeling over the Emperor and shouting for a medevac to ImpMil, shouting that this wasn't a drill and he needed-- and he listed a bunch of names, all of the top men on the planet, get them to ImpMil immediately. And then Negri grabbed my arm and said, Armsman, will you do your duty?

Told me to get all the loyal men. Told me to tell them, the Emperor's dead. Told me to meet him at ImpMil. We had to perform our final duty to Ezar, to see his body, and know his murderer, and then we had to avenge him. And we weren't to go to Serg.

Some went. I got all the men I could and took them to ImpMil. But some did go to Serg, yes. And it wasn't all us older ones, the one who came up during the war. Some younger ones were loyal to Ezar to the last, and some who remembered Yuri and Xav's loyalty games, they went to Serg. I don't know what they were thinking. That we were sworn to the Vorbarras, I guess, not to Negri, not to ImpSec, and certainly not to a _spy_. And Serg was Vorbarra. He was a lot of other things, too, but he was a Vorbarra. He was a hell of a Vorbarra.

And I took some to Negri and he took us to Padma and Ezar wasn't even buried before I swore to another, and Padma changed his name on his oath and gave us his protection, and all the time we all know it means less than nothing. And all the time, I'm thinking, did Ezar know Negri was doing this?

I talked to the Vorkosigan armsmen later that night, when the old general sent what he could. They didn't know either. How much this was planned in advance. You try to put it together after and you just wonder.

We take our oaths to be loyal in deed and word and thought, but I never took that oath to Negri. He was always damn sly. You just have to wonder how much of this was what Ezar wanted. I look around and I don't think he wanted any of this, but here we are.

I can't say what we did was wrong, but I wonder if maybe Serg was following in Ezar's footsteps more than we ever did.

 

Another Guarsman:

How did it happen? Serg was lucky. Negri was sloppy. 

Serg had an energy weapon. He and the Emperor were briefly alone in a room together. So much was happening that night. Serg saw the opportunity and took it. Stupid, because you set off a stunner in the Residence and twenty alarms go off, and _did_ go off, and so Serg had to run. They say Negri didn't catch him in the room, but I don't think so. I think Negri rushed in, he saw the Prince running out of the back entrance, he saw the Emperor on the floor, and he let his emotions dictate his response. He went to the Emperor and didn't go after the murderer.

How _could_ it have happened is the better question, but I don't have an answer for that. People say now that the Emperor must've had some blame for it, but the way I always saw it, no one up Serg's chain of command was telling him to do it. He was his own chain of command. It was his decision. 

Negri? He knew something. He knew it was Serg. It had to have been. But that was because it wasn't the first time Serg had tried it. And Negri could protect the Emperor against anyone. But protecting him against his own son? His hands were tied by the Counts.

 

[  
_Captain Venyamin Negri:_  
  
The Emperor was not going to last the night/dead. I had my orders. I told Vorkosigan.  
]

 _Padma Vorpatril Vorbarra_ :

Ezar was a typical Vor general, making ten or twelve contingency plans in case of any disaster. He must've seen Serg's treason coming, because Ezar had bequeathed Captain Negri to Uncle Piotr. That was as good as giving the Vorkosigans an Imperial order to make chaos after Ezar died. [And who knows, maybe they had that, too.]

 

_General Piotr Vorkosigan:_

Bequeathed him _back_ to me, he said to me once. Never mentioned that to Negri, of course. He wouldn't have dared.

 

_Captain Venyamin Negri:_

Ezar's orders were clear. If anything happened to him, even if Serg wasn't behind it, I was to go to General Vorkosigan immediately. I wasn't to wait for anything, not even for Ezar to stop breathing. Once the outcome was clear, go to Vorkosigan. Go to Vorkosigan, tell him the Imperium is his, to give to whoever he pleases.

And Ezar was dying. But there wasn't time to go to Vorkosigan.

 

_General Piotr Vorkosigan:_

Negri doesn't waste time. Serg was moving fast; we had to move faster. I was in my District. We couldn't afford delays.

 

_Armsman Randolf Wallinger:_

Negri took five of us from Ezar's score. We were the only Vorbarra armsmen he trusted to be obedient to our oaths to Ezar, not Serg. We cleared the room for him. He put the call in to Vorkosigan House and ten minutes later, we were all at war.

 

_General Vorkosigan:_

Negri's never had time for pleasantries. He woke me up and said, "Ezar's dying and he'll be dead by morning."

 

_Captain Negri:_

We didn't have time for delays. I told him, "Ezar says the Imperium is yours. What are your orders?"

 

_Vorbarra Armsman Sergeant Randolph Wallinger:_

I served with them in the war, Ezar and Negri and Vorkosigan, and the three of them had their ways. You'd think they were reading each other's minds. Negri just looked at him over the comconsole and Vorkosigan said, "so Ezar's dead." And Negri said, "the Imperium is yours, Vorkosigan. What are you going to do with it?"

_  
General Vorkosigan:_

I told Negri to go right to Padma, don't wait for me. I had my armsmen with me and Padma didn't have anyone. Padma needed Negri and all the loyal men that Negri could find.

 

 _Vorkosigan Armsman Istvan Esterhazy_  
  
The Count called us from the District, the five of us who were in the capital, and told us that we were seconded to Padma, but then he said to three of us, after, me and [anem from lord Piotr] and young Kalle -- he died the next night, poor boy -- and told us to get Petya first. Martinov and [other name] went straight to Padma and caught up with Negri there and stayed with Padma throughout the war, but we went first to get Petya from the school.

 

_Carl Vorhalas:_

We'd heard something. You couldn't not have heard something. There was chaos that night in the capital, I remember that. We didn't know what was happening at first, but when it got out, it got out. Ezar was dead. Me and Petya were studying late that night and someone rushed in, one of the instructors, and said, my lord, come with me. Petya grabbed me with him, I guess as a witness or maybe he was just scared, but the armsmen who came to take him away were his armsmen, so he left. 

And the next day, the Vorkosigans declared war.

 

_Padma Vorpatril Vorbarra:_

We'd come back from the party, me and Alys. We were having a late night discussion in my private sitting room. Then Negri burst in with ten armed guards and told me that Ezar and Kareen were dead and that Piotr Vorkosigan was awaiting my response.

 

_Alys Vorinnis Vorbarra:_

Negri came himself to tell us. He looked at me, and then conspicuously didn't. I remember thinking that I was the wrong Vorinnis lady to be there when they were talking about Padma taking over the Imperium from the inside. And then Negri said that Kareen was dying, too. Negri barely waited for us to grab Padma's weapons before shoving me and Padma out the door. We couldn't stay there long. It was Padma's house and too conspicuous. It would have been the first place Serg looked for him.

 

_Imperial Security Lieutenant Simon Illyan:_

Negri took armsmen with him and whoever he thought he could trust from ImpSec. I was one of them. He said he needed someone he could trust to give outright to Padma for his security. I became his security man, the man most trusted to stand next to him with loaded weapons. And the first time I met him, he was stark naked.

 

_Captain Negri:_

Illyan was the only man for the job. I gave Padma every loyal man in ImpSec, but the man responsible for his personal safety must be loyal beyond any mere loyalty. Illyan was mostly untried at that point, but he had been tested, and his value went beyond the blandness of his face or the speed of his man. Padma needed a personal security man who wasn't tainted by association with the Vorkosigans. Illyan was that and more. 

 

_Vorbarra Armsman Sergeant Randolph Wallinger:_

Padma was entertaining in his house that night. Dangerous. We had to get him to safe territory, but there were no guarantees that where we were going to go would be safe. Padma suggested Vorpatril House. He thought he could pick up some more guards there.

 

_Padma Vorpatril Vorbarra:_

We had to go right to the Vorpatrils. That wasn't any question. I had given my oath to my Count to my cousin Falco, and if I was going to put myself up as Emperor and demand oaths, the absolute first thing I needed, above all else, was to be free from my oath to Falco, and then to get his. I needed the Vorkosigans, sure, but if I didn't have Falco, I was in a very difficult position when it came to oaths, because anyone taking oath to me would really be taking it to Falco.

 

_Historian Arthur Vorinnis:_

Padma was the man of the hour. A couple years earlier, it might have been Aral Vorkosigan. A couple years later, it might have been Piotr Vorkosigan the Younger. But with Aral off-planet and Petya just a kid, Padma was the only choice.

 

_General Vorkosigan:_

There wasn't any choice. Of course it was Padma.

 

_Vorkosigan Armsman Istvan Esterhazy:_

Getting Lord Piotr out of the preparatory academy was easier than it should have been. All it took was men in Vorkosigan uniform. Stupid and dangerous and we were all lucky that the first to arrive for the young lord were actually real armsmen. We were in contact with Negri's men throughout and we took him straight to Vorpatril House. Padma had already finished whatever he needed to do, and then he took Lord Piotr into a room, just them alone. They were in there for an hour.

 

_Alys Vorinnis Vorbarra:_

They were in there for maybe ten minutes. Petya arrived on our heels. Falco's armsmen went to wake him up and tell him what was happening, and so Padma took that time to have that discussion with Petya. 

 

_Imperial Security Lieutenant Simon Illyan:_

Two men in a room together, deciding which of them was going to be Emperor.

 

_Petya Vorkosigan:_

That's the story that's gone around. I know. It's still bullshit. Me and Padma in a room... We didn't talk about that at all. Of course it was going to be Padma. He hugged me. He said he was going to do everything he could to protect me. And that was it. It wasn't even a discussion. Or even saying the words, really. Serg had killed Ezar, Kareen was dying. Of course it was going to be Padma. There was no one else it could have been. 

 

_Padma Vorpatril Vorbarra:_

There'd been some training exercise at the school, or something like that. Petya looked like he'd been running obstacle courses for the last week. It might have been exam time. We got a moment to ourselves before it all began. I asked him if he was scared, he said he was. I told him that I would protect him to the extent of my power. He told me he was Vor and he understood.

 

_Petya Vorkosigan:_

I promised him my sword, my obedience, all of it. I mean, I did that when I was a kid, when I was practicing for making my oath to Ezar and was terrified I'd make a mistake in front of everyone, and Padma was helping me memorize it, and so I swore parts of those oaths to him repeatedly and I did mean it -- although if I'd said so at the time, we both could have been killed for it -- but I've always been Padma's. Always. He says treason and I say, yes, sire.

 

_Padma Vorpatril Vorbarra:_

We talked mostly about nothing in particular after that. I was trying to stay calm. We were in there I think twenty minutes before Illyan came in and said Falco had made up his mind.

 

 _Alys Vorinnis Vorbarra:_  
  
After Falco came down in his slippers and dressing gown and promised to obey Padma in everything, they started arguing. I took Countess Vorpatril and we went immediately to Vorinnis House to tell them what was going on and ensure their support for Padma.

 

_Timothy Vorinnis:_

I heard about Kareen first. One of her doctors called and then mentioned that Ezar was dying. That night-- that night was hell. I was on duty at HQ and got called over to ImpMil to be there for Kareen. I was there when Ezar died and when Kareen died, and then Arthur came and we both left.

Negri was there and he took me and he said-- he said a lot of things. Some orders to me. And then we caught up with Padma and his retinue. It was a retinue by then. It was him and Alys, and they weren't letting each other out of their sight, and Petya looking completely terrified, and more armed guards than you'd've thought, and always gaining more. My father gave them two armsmen, gave me and Arthur some, and then said, he'd volunteer to kill his son-in-law. For Kareen.

 

Dorca had taken away the Count's armies. Ezar had finished the job. Count Vorkosigan, Ezar's pet general, didn't even have his own militia anymore.

And so of course we ended up with loyalty games tugging this way and that, with Counts all trying to grab as many Imperial troops as possible, the pull this way and that.

 

\---

**The setting-in period after. The influx of new proles included Guy Allegre, the later Lord Chancellor and Governor, who was then known primarily as a former cadet from the Vor[whatever] District.**

 

_Guy Allegre:_

Somehow, I found myself working in the Residence. I'm still not sure exactly how that happened. I mean, how it became official. I really don't know. I was calling home to let my family know I'm okay and they're asking me how I'm doing, what I'm doing, and I say, oh, this and that, you know, putting my hands in to rebuild, doing what I can. At some point, I think this was three months in, or something like that, my father finally snapped, "but what are you _doing_?" I was staying with Petya and helping him and it was only natural, because the Residence in those days was a scene of chaos. Anyone who could do anything was drafted into doing it.

From afar, it all looks so ordered and calm and clear. It's only when you get close to it that you realize it's chaos. I was helping put order to the chaos. After my father demanded to know what I was doing, I went to the Lord Chancellor and he told me that I was one of his assistants. So I called back my parents and told them I was an Assistant To The Lord Chancellor Of The Imperial Household.

Which meant that I spent half my time running around trying to figure out how we were going to feed everyone, but I think my parents were just happy that it was official and I wasn't, uh, being stolen by the Vor for nefarious purposes. They never did get over me and Petya.

 

_Padma Vorpatril Vorbarra:_

Guy Allegre was one of those men, and there were many of them, who arrived one day at our headquarters, before the peace, and then at the Residence, looked around at everything, shrugged, and got to work. They did what had to be done. All of them invaluable. 

 

\--

Chapter 4: The Komarran Delegation

**Negotiations with Komarr began as soon as the .**

 

_Vera Vorinnis Vorvolk:_

The _Komarrans_. Oh, the Komarrans. Dealing with Winstan Vorfolse was easier than dealing with the Komarrans.

 

_Komarran Negotiator:_

If we ever had any doubts that we were dealing with barbarians, their offer of the Butcher's son as a sacrificial hostage erased all of them.

 

\---

 

 **Transition to democracy/constitutional and constitutional monarchy** :

 

_Padma:_

We had a very small window of time in which w had to do _everything_. Find some war forward with Komarr, rebuild our planet, and find a way for me to abdicate without throwing us into renewed chaos. We began immediately.

 

_[some historian]:_

Padma and his forces were lucky, in a way. The war had either killed or destroyed the power and political bases of men who wouldn't work with him or listen to him. And he had a lot of leverage over the ones he'd pardoned for their treason. But he only had a short amount of time before his enemies would begin to rebuild and reestablish themselves. / But any real delays would give them time to regroup.

 

_Guy Allegre:_

The politics were completely beyond me. Completely. It wasn't that no one who understood it ever tried to explain it to me, but after the umpteenth Vor brushes off concerns about something or another with "don't worry, don't worry, I can bring that person around with a ball of twine and spit," I just gave up on trying to understand the way it worked. You just have to throw your hands up and say, "you deal with this", and go to work on the actual substance behind it.

 

_Arina Vorhalas:_

Guy Allegre was one of the people making sure we could actually accomplish this, once we got it passed the Counts.

 

_Padma Vorpatril Vorbarra:_

I had this recurring nightmare that I would finally get it past the Counts only to watch it fall apart once we tried to actually _do_ it.

 

_Guy Allegre:_

Setting up the ground work with the proles was easy. As soon as you say things like _unbiased courts_ , where the Vor and proles are equal and no Lord Whoever is whispering behind the scenes to the Count of the Count's deputy, saying things like "no, vote against _him_ , I don't like him", well... I sure wasn't buying my own drinks. There was a lot of disbelief that the _Vor_ would ever actually do this, but after I said a few hundred times that I was a deputy of the Lord Chancellor and, yes, I was looking for people willing to study local government practices on Beta Colony and Escobar for a year and then come back and it put it into play in their villages and towns... if I _hadn't_ been from the Emperor, I might've started another revolution all over again.

 

 _Timothy Vorinnis_ :

There were a few of us, Padma's lackeys. Me, the Vorkosigans, Falco, and then suddenly Pierre Vorrutyer is knowing on the door saying that Count Vorhalas was there to see us.

 

_Gustav Vorhalas:_

[why he helped]

 

 

\---

 _David Galen_ :

I remember the day the Barrayarans left. They just left! I was five and it seemed like a miracle. Like I had wished really hard 'please make them go away and let my life get back to the way it had been before my aunt died and my father started talking about revolt. And then they left! It wasn't as easy as all that, but that was what made me believe we could do this. Have any way to go forward. Because they left because _they_ wanted to, not because any Komarran threw them out.

 

\---

 

We needed a strict continuation for it to be seen as legitimate succession. The Barrayar of Ezar is the Barrayar of Padma is the Barrayar of today. We need that legitimacy for the sake of all our extent treaties and trade agreements. Could you imagine having to renegotiating every single of those of those just because we had repudiated or invalidated them? The diplomats would have skinned us alive.

If a new government declared they needn't abide by the agreements of the past, I think we'd still be fighting our way out of the petulant mess.

\---

[someone]:

Thigns like immunity from prosecution for all Counts... basically saying that if it wasn't actually illegal then -- meaning no chance of convinction in the Counts for it, or an actual documentation of an Imperial pardon -- we can't call it illegal now. Padma was rumored to have stayed up all night for weeks before he abdicated, writing pardon after pardon after pardon...

 

 _Padma_ :

If I gave someone an order, I wasn't going to stand by and let someone hang them for obeying me or any other Emperor.

 

[ _someone]_ :  
Still, some of us think we might be able to get Piotr Vorkosigans on war crimes _eventually_.

[Piotr Vorkosigan died two years after this interview was conducted]

 

 

 

Giving proles the power to effect change. Change things from the inside instead of having to do it from the outside through violence, or not at all. Quiet revolution. Of cours,e Padma didn't go far enough.

You go into a group of proles, you say everything's crap and getting worse, the Vor have it all and they don't want to share, and people look at you and go, yeah, so what are you going to do about it? And I say, well, I'm here with tickets for Beta Colony if you agree to come back in two years and start going out to remote communities and teaching people the fundamentals of democracy, and also things like reading..

 

 

About komar:

Padma:

The invasion was a disaster on all levels. At the forefront was Serg's Massacre. He brought Barrayaran politics into an invasion and both ended up a disaster because of it. His political operatives were thinking only of Serg's jealousy of Admiral Vorkosigan, and Serg was thinking only of himself. They thought of the invasion as a tool of their Barrayaran political agenda and didn't care how many people had to die to remove Admiral Vorkosigan from his position and slander his name.

And the invasion itself was hardly practical. What did Barrayar need with Komarr? What would we do with a second planet in our Empire when we've had such problems holding onto the first? The Cetagandans, our unification wars, we know better than this.

Ezar was thinking with his paranoia, that he wanted those wormholes. But the Cetagandans hadn't come back since we threw them out. It was a failure of that generation. They were so consumed with the Cetagandan War that they never noticed that it ended. Forty years after it was over, they invaded Komarr just to make sure that the Cetagandans really couldn't come back. It was wasteful. It was unnecessary. It was politically... reckless. And it wasn't necessary.

That they waited until Prince Xav and Princess Jacqueline were both dead is quite telling. They knew that they didn't approve. Xav was the loudest voice towards working with Komarr, rather than considering them the enemy.

And why not? It made so much sense, as soon as you take out the assumption that Barrayar must own Komarr in order to be safe. Komarr is a planet in the long, _long_ , process of being terraformed. It is unlivable and will be for generations. They have no natural resources to speak of. The planet is a wasteland. Their riches lie in their people, in their society, and, yes, in their wormholes.

Look at Barrayar. Look what we have. Yes, we have a native vegetation that isn't consumable, but we have our terraforming in place, and we can live on our planet and breathe the air. We have farms and forests and rivers. We have agriculture and, let's put it bluntly, we can live on our planet even if someone does a strategic bombing raid. You can't do that on Komarr. You can't do that on Beta Colony.

Komarrans can't go out into an orchard and pick an apple and eat it, or catch a rabbit for dinner. They can't cut down trees to build from, they can't generate heat from a fire. What they have are their wormholes and their trade. Like everyone, they need trade to survive. Komarr is a natural trading partner. They need our resources. We need their medicine, their technology, their universities, _their people_.

Xav was practical. He'd inherited it from his father, Emperor Dorca. Ignore the bloody nose they gave you, extend the hand. It's how Dorca unified the planet. Ignoring the past and focusing on the future worked for Dorca on Barrayar; it finally put blood feuding behind us. So of course that was my strategy for our relationship with Komarr. Dorca's strategy, Xav's strategy, my strategy.

And it worked, of course.

 

Someone:

Padma was trying ot have it all ways. He kept [insisting] . he would n the continuation of government, as himself as ezar's successor. And then he'd turn to the Komarrans and talk about how he was prince xav's heir and that prince xav wanted this, that, and the other thing, and completely distrance himself from the Vorkosigans, point out that the Vorkosigans didn't have any say in galactic policy anymore, how Piotr Vorkosigan was doing this, and aral Vorkosigan was building hospitals, and meanwhile, back home, Padma knew damn well that if he really repudiated the Vorkosigans, Piotr Vorkosigan would chop his head off. Or that's how he acted anyway. He wrapped himself in ezar and Vorkosigans when it was convenient. And then he'd turn around to talk to the Komarrans and talk about xav

 

Padma got his legiimtacy from xav and he knew it. And xav didn't agree with ezar on everything. Why not use it, when he had that advantage?

 

Alys:

That's not to say it was easy, as these things go. It's hard to imagine how it could have been worse. We'd had a perfectly fine relationship with Komarr. Even our universities were nice to each other. And then, without warning, came Vorkosigan and the invasion fleet. It wasn't a complete surprise, I don't want to say that. Relations had fallen off a bit, Komarr'd had time to get some mercenaries on their side, appeal to Beta for technology. But it was quite sudden, the emotions on the Barrayaran side. From Komarr's perspective, we were an ally who suddenly turned into a belligerent. Forty years down the drain.

We'd shown up, we'd conquered their planet, and then tried to occupy it. Less than a year after, our fleet ran home, and there we were, hat in hand, trying to apologize, calling it a mistake. Of course they didn't trust us. _I_ wouldn't have trusted us.

 

 

 

who gave the order? from thsi distance, it's imposible to say. the vorkosigans, naturally, wnated to believe it was Serg. easier for them that way.

 

vorkosigan killed the only man who could have testified to his guilt. or his innocence. that proved to most people that he wasn't innocent.

 

count vorkosigan had done this before. and it was probably easier. padma was xav's grandson, ezar was just a vorbarra cousin. and he had that advantae, because it was padma, of the grandsons. no one wanted the vorkosgans on the throne. not even the vorkosigans wanted the vorkosigans on the throne. 

As far as he was concerned, it must've been the best of all worlds. Padma was nearly a Vorkosigan, as much of one as you could be without having the name, but he wasn't, which the other Counts preferred. No one wanted to put Count Vorkosigan on the throne.

 

[female name] author of untangling the vor family tree, and []:

It wasn't spoken of very much after the war, for obvious reasons, but Count Vorkosigan wanted to adopt Padma Vorpatril. Prince Xav opposed it and, if Vorkosigan tried again after Prince Xav died, Emperor Ezar formally blocked it.

 

 

[the head of whatever the name is of that democracy group] I found out about it all when ImpSec was sniffing around. They always were, but this time, when they very politely tapped me on the shoulder and threw me into the lightflyer, we went to the Residence. And then I'm sitting across a table from the Emperor, who is looking at me very sternly and demands our plan to transition Barrayar to a democracy. I think I pissed myself. I looked over my shoulder for the fast-penta. Then I realized he was serious.

 

(in the list of what barrayar has and komarr doesn't) our artists, our woodworkers, our Bararayarn glass.

\---

 

Ezar's orders on this are clear. Very clear. Oh, he'd been kind about it, in that abrupt way he has. He'd been careful to say that he's bequeathing Negri to Piotr. Very careful not to say, bequeathing him _back_.

But the orders are clear. If anything happens to Ezar, even if, shockingly, Serg isn't behind it, then Negri goes to Piotr. Immediately. Don't wait for anything, even if it's Ezar to stop breathing. If the outcome is clear, go to Piotr. Go to Piotr, tell him the Imperium is his to give to whoever he pleases.

And now Ezar is dying in ImpMil. He won't last the night. Kareen might, but the baby is already lost. And Piotr is in his District.

There's no time. There's no time to go to him in person, not when he has to act now, not when it may all be lost by morning.

There are five of Ezar's score who Negri is willing to trust at need, and Negri has them clear him a room.

Piotr answers the comconsole, taking an entire eternity of several seconds. "What is it, Negri?" he asks.

"Ezar's dying," Negri says. They've never had time for pleasantries. Not when it's war. "He'll be dead by morning. Serg caught me off guard. Ezar says, the Imperium is yours."

Piotr bows his head, then raises it. Another eternity of seconds. "Go to Padma," he orders. "Tell him that it's his. I'll come to him directly, but you get there first. Go there yourself. His safety is paramount right now. It all rests on him."

A year ago, it would have been Aral, but it's too late now, and Negri nods his understanding. It can't be Aral now. And three years from now, it could have been young Piotr, but it's not three years from now. Lord Padma's the man of the hour. It has to be him.

Piotr turns around for a brief moment and exchanges a word with an armsman off to the side that Negri can't see. "I'm seconding Padma the armsmen I have in Vorbarr Sultana right now, all but three of them. You can have those three once Petya is out of that school. We can have our war council once I arrive. We can't waste the time."

Piotr's not even pretending that Padma would refuse the honor. And he's right. They don't have time for that. Negri salutes the screen and Piotr returns it before he leaves the room, not even bothering to officially end the call before moving into action.

Negri stops by ImpSec only briefly, to collect the only man there whose loyalty he is willing to trust at this moment. Padma will have every loyal man in ImpSec, but the man responsible for his personal safety must be loyal beyond mere loyalty. Young Illyan is mostly untried, but he's been tested, and he has value beyond the blandness of his face. Padma will need a personal security man who isn't tainted by association with the Vorkosigans. Illyan will be that.

 

\----

 

It's Negri himself who comes to tell them. He doesn't even so much as glance at Alys, hastily pulling her dress back on, as he enters the room, trailing guards behind him. No, Alys realizes, on second glance. Not guards. Vorkosigan armsmen, out of uniform.

"Serg has gone mad," Negri tells Padma. "Ezar's dying in ImpMil, he won't last the night. The doctors aren't sure about Kareen yet, but the baby's lost. Count Vorkosigan is on his way here from Hassadar. He will need your answer by then."

"Aral--," Padma starts, and then he stops. Alys knows what's going through his head right now, because it's what's going through hers. A year ago, it could have been Aral. If Aral had stopped himself from murdering a man on the bridge of his own ship, it could have been Aral. It can't be Aral now. Aral's off-planet, on patrol duty so far off that it will take him two months to get back at top speed. It can't be Aral.

And if it can't be Aral, the war hero, the Conqueror of Komarr, it can't be Petya. Petya, who hasn't hit his majority yet. Petya, who would be catapulting himself over his still-living father. Petya, who would be Count Vorkosigan's only other choice, and would be a disaster, to put someone on the throne who requires a Regent.

And Count Vorkosigan is coming to Padma, to make him the same offer he made Ezar. The only real question here is if Alys is the wrong Vorinnis lady to be in the room right now, holding Padma's hand when he decides to steal the throne for himself.

Padma takes in a deep breath and then exhales. "I will inform Count Vorkosigan that I accept his support. Can I count on yours as well, Captain?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Negri says. "You'll have every loyal man in ImpSec."

"And all your spies in the Ministry," Padma says. Negri smiles at him thinly. "I'm going to need-- well, everything."

Negri nods. "I remember this part of it well," he says. "What are your orders? What do you need first?"

"Who I need...," Padma frowns. "Count Vorpatril before anyone else, even Count Vorkosigan. I need his support the most of anyone. If I lose that... I need to be released from my oath to him, first of all. And then I'll need to take his. It all has to follow from there. Vorpatril, then Vorkosigan. Alys, can you get me your uncle? I don't--"

"Three of his sons have already gone after Serg," Negri interjects. "He knows."

"All luck to them," Alys murmurs. "Padma, I can get him. Where do you want me to bring him?" They can't stay here. Even if the house were adequately fortified, it would be the first place Serg's forces look for them.

"I'll be going to Vorpatril House," Padma decides. "If Falco doesn't give me problems, we can use it as our base of operations for tonight. Maybe two or three days, give us time to consolidate our forces. Once this gets out... Vordarian will stand for the throne. Maybe Vordrozda, too. Ges Vorrutyer will finally have to finalize his choice, but I think he'll stay with Serg. Too risky for him to abandon him now, he'll bide his time before stabbing him in the back. Petya... Negri, where the hell is Petya? We've got to get him out of that school before Serg goes for him."

"Piotr sent armsman to fetch him back to the District," Negri says.

Padma nods. "Good, good, contingency plans. We're going to need all of them. Our first priority is going to be... it must be too late to get to Serg directly--"

"The first priority is seeing to your safety," Alys says. "War councils can wait, we need to leave here at once."

 

\--

 

Petya was in the capital when it happened. Within an hour, he was in Vorkosigan Surleau, and two hours after that, he'd disappeared into the District. Count Vorkosigan says that Petya's under orders to go to ground.

Petya's the contingency plan, but he has no intention of spending this war doing nothing but being a coward. He knows where most of the guerilla caches are, and he activates his grandfather's old forces and recruits new ones. Most factions are hesitant to move too heavily into Vorkosigan territory, remembering the lessons of the Cetagandans and Yuri, but Petya

Padma's forces grab him when the winter snows are finally melting.


End file.
